


Choosing Realities

by Ashlanielle



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family, Romance, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-17 03:14:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 131,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3513137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashlanielle/pseuds/Ashlanielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian Smith is a broken man, consumed by guilt and refusing to allow anyone close to him. But a brief meeting with a beautiful stranger, Rose Tyler, changes his life in ways he never conceived possible. As the lines between realities blur, Ian's forced to examine everything--what was, what is, and what could be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. How It Is

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning: this one is gonna be an emotional roller coaster. But I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. By the way, I'm American so the legal terms will reflect that.
> 
> Demons–Imagine Dragons

The courtroom was filled with more than the usual amount of chatter while everyone awaited the jury’s verdict. Chatter annoyed him. The jury’s deliberation annoyed him. In truth, everything was annoying him that morning. He had poured over the depositions and various notes of the case, virtually every detail, well into the early morning hours. And yet, one clerk’s careless misstep almost brought his certain victory crumbling down around his feet. The defense attorney, Jack Harkness, had practically pounced on the oversight and nearly swayed the jury in his favor with his smooth talk and charming finesse. It sickened him, in a way, to witness it. But then his turn to speak came, and he stood with an air of unshakeable confidence and purpose. He had then systematically broken down the key aspects of the defense’s case, masterfully wielding his piercing words and brilliant reasoning ability. He could practically see the former resolve of the jury break, and in that moment, he knew he had clenched a guilty verdict. It was times such as this that everyone could see why Ian Smith had the reputation as “The Destroyer.” And though he didn’t appreciate the moniker, it did describe him rather perfectly. He sat down self-assuredly and knowingly smirked—he could practically feel Jack squirm in his chair. 

It was that assuredness that fueled his irritation when an hour and a half later, the jury still had not returned with his decided verdict. He looked through the various files in front of him, overviewing them for the umpteenth time—anything to keep his mind focused. He felt a presence approach him, but refused to acknowledge it. Instead, he maintained his eyes on the papers before him. 

“Can we have a minute?” Jack asked quietly.

“No,” he said shortly, still refusing to look at him.

“Look, there’s still time to reconsider. It was—"

“I don’t plea bargain, and you know that. No special treatment.”

“He’s just a kid,” Jack said, a touch of pleading in his voice. 

“Who attempted to sell company secrets for a profit; what about that makes you think I would be interested in taking it easy on him?” he growled as he finally looked up to face Jack with an icy glare.

Jack’s face hardened as he struggled to keep from shouting. “Because it’s his first offense? Because he’s an only child who’s the sole support for his ailing mother? Because he—"

“I’m done talking about this. I have more important things to do, and you have an appeal to work on,” he spat, snapping his head away from Jack and back to his previous activity.

Jack clenched and unclenched his fist, trying to contain his ire. He swiftly turned around and walked back to his client. Ian glanced over at them from the corner of his eye. He could make out Jack leaning towards the young man, whispering something to him. The expression on the young man’s face became troubled as Jack continued to speak, his eyes becoming almost fearful. Ian quickly turned his eyes forward again. It didn't matter that the defendant was barely nineteen—laws were laws, and he had broken them. Simple as that. 

Forty minutes later, the jury returned a guilty verdict. Ian smiled inwardly at his triumph and quickly gathered his documents together, securing them in his briefcase. He stood and turned to exit the courtroom, but was immediately arrested by the sight of the young man and his mother saying their final goodbyes. She was a small woman, chestnut hair streaked with gray, and darkened circles under her eyes that makeup failed to effectively cover. She shakily lifted her hand and cupped the young man’s cheek. Unshed tears shined in her eyes as she made an obvious attempt to be strong for her son, though it was painfully clear she was in a physically frail state. For a moment, Ian felt an emotion build within him; some would call it guilt, others would call it pity, but Ian called it irrelevant and crushed it before it could gain momentum. Steeling his resolve and tightening his jaw, he sailed past them and into the congested hall, not giving them another thought. 

“Ian!” Jack called out over the mass of noises flooding the hallway. 

He continued walking, having absolutely no desire to engage in a conversation with anyone, least of all Jack. But Jack was relentless, and pursued him. He quickly got ahead of him and put his hand out, stopping Ian midstride. 

“What was that in there?” Jack demanded sharply, his eyes brimming and his jaw clenched in carefully restrained anger. 

Ian met his expression with an icy one of his own. “That was me putting away a criminal,” he said and attempted to sidestep him. 

Jack moved into his path. “Oh, come off it! That was just cruel and you know it. Granted, the kid broke the law and he deserved to be punished; but he did _not_ deserve to have you crush him like that!”

“I did my job, Jack. Just because you couldn’t turn the jury with your sob story, doesn’t mean you can take it out on me. So, if you’ll excuse me…”

Jack remained undeterred. “This has nothing to do with winning or losing. This is about you showing zero compassion for a nineteen year-old kid who was only trying to pay for his mother’s medical treatment! Remember compassion? It’s that thing that shows you have a heart and _care_ about people. It’s something you _used_ to have. God, if Dad could see you now, he’d—"

Ian’s eyes flashed with rage. “Don’t you dare try to guilt me, Jack,” he snapped, cutting him off. “I’m well aware what kind of man _my_ father was, and that has nothing to do with what happened in there today.”

“ _Our_ father would be ashamed of who you’ve become, especially considering what kind of man you used to be. I know I am,” Jack said, unable to hide the disappointment in his voice. 

Ian stiffened as the words struck him. “Well,” he sniffed, “it’s lucky for me that I don’t care what you think.” With that, he quickly moved to the side and resumed walking away. 

This time, Jack made no attempt to stop him. He just simply watched as the shadow of a man he once knew finally disappeared within the crowd.

***

“He’s a git.”

“Yes, he is,” Rose said absentmindedly, the tip of her tongue poking between her teeth in concentration as she delicately carved intricate leaves on the fondant before her. 

“A stupid, stupid git.”

“Yep,” Rose agreed. 

“But a bloody gorgeous git…”

“Donna, he sweet talked his way into your good graces just so he could swipe your recipes and give ‘em to that cow, Emme Racnoss, for her new restaurant… _and_ she turned out to be his _fiancé_ ,” Rose countered, finally putting down her sculpting knife and facing her friend. “So I don’t care if he makes Ryan Gosling look like a steaming pile of dung—Lance Bennet is a cad and bloody wanker and I’m not gonna let you waste any more time pining over ‘im.” she said decidedly. Though her tone of voice was firm and somewhat direct, her eyes were affectionately warm with concern. 

Rose Tyler was fiercely protective of those close to her, and Donna Noble was one of the closest. Friends since childhood, Rose and Donna were nearly inseparable and unswervingly loyal to each other. God help anyone who decided to cross one of them. 

Donna sat on the empty prep table, gently swaying her legs back in forth as she mulled over Rose’s words. “Maybe he’s not _that_ gorgeous…”

“No, he’s not,” Rose said, shaking her head as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“And he was kind of annoying.” 

Rose grinned, encouraging the Lance bashing. “Absolutely grating. Like nails on a blackboard.”

Donna slid off the table, her face now tightening with anger. “And he always brought me the wrong coffee!”

“Bloody prat,” Rose giggled. 

“That’s it,” Donna said, grabbing her keys. “I’m gonna over to that scummy little café and givin’ ‘im a piece of my mind,” she said determinedly.

“No, no, no…that’s not necessary,” Rose assured her, rushing up to her and grabbing her arm, halting Donna’s hasty departure. 

Donna turned on her heel, her expression a mixture of confusion and annoyance. “Why not? Ya just stood there and trashed him, and now ya just wanna let it go?”

“It’s not necessary because I already took care of it,” Rose said, letting go of Donna’s arm and returning to her etching. 

Donna’s mouth opened and closed a few times. “What do ya mean you took care of it? What’d ya do?”

“I mean, I took care of it,” Rose said, softly shrugging her shoulders yet never breaking her focus from her work. 

“Yeah, I heard you, but that’s not what I asked…,” Donna said, tossing her keys onto the table and approaching Rose. 

Rose remained silent and picked up one of the small brushes, switching from etching to color. 

“Rose…”

Silence.

Donna put her hands on Rose’s table and leaned forward. “What did you do?” she asked pointedly, a slow smirk emerging. 

Rose looked up at her, her brush in midair, and broke out in a broad grin. “I, uh, might’ve flooded his petrol tank with water.”

Donna’s face hardened, her eyes narrowing into thin slits. “Rose Marion Tyler, I can’t believe you!”

“What?!” Rose squawked, surprised at Donna’s reaction. 

“I can’t believe you did that and didn’t include me!” she huffed, crossing her arms. “The two of us together could’ve really done a number on ‘im.”

Rose chortled at her; that sounded more like the Donna she knew and loved. “Yeah, and we probably would’ve landed in jail; and I don’t know ‘bout you, but I don’t want that to happen…again.”

“That was six years ago and we were only in there five hours,” Donna scoffed, blowing off the memory as nothing.

“Five and a half,” Rose corrected.

“Whatever,” Donna said, rolling her eyes. 

“Don’t you need to head back? It’s almost 11:30 A.M.,” Rose inquired, looking from the time on her phone then to Donna. 

“Oh wizard!” Donna growled. “I didn’t expect to stay this long,” she said, hurriedly grabbing her purse and snatching her keys off the table. “I’ve got two newbies starting today, so there’s a good chance I’ll call you screaming at some point this afternoon.”

“Gotcha; looking forward to it,” Rose said, wiping her hands on her sugar stained apron, before hugging Donna goodbye. 

“See ya later,” Donna called out as she hastily exited the bakery.

***

Rose wiped her forehead with the back of her arm as she loaded the last box into the back of her car. Normally she would use the delivery van, but this order was small enough it didn't warrant using it. Every Friday, Rose had a standing order of assorted pastries and breads to be delivered to Jones, Matheson, & Harkness—a prominent law firm in London. By the time she navigated through the noon traffic, she was about fifteen minutes later than her usual delivery time. Rose muttered under her breath, chastising herself for her tardiness. Though she had a good rapport with two of the main partners, Rose didn’t want to do anything that could jeopardize her business with them. Rose loaded the boxes into two carriers and entered the building. 

The lift doors opened onto the twelfth floor, and Rose stepped out and hustled towards the employee lounge. To her relief, no one seemed to notice that was late. She quickly laid out the spread on the table along the far back wall. She carefully positioned the baked goods in such a way to make them aesthetically pleasing—the spread consisting of a variety of muffins, bear claws, chocolate croissants, sweet buns, and other delectable treats. Finally satisfied with her presentation, Rose quickly gathered her carriers and headed back towards the lift. 

As she was walking, she passed by an open office door and the sight of Jack Harkness caught her attention. Immediately, she stopped and backtracked to his door. He was one of the partners she was rather friendly with, and the expression on his face tugged at her heart. His eyes were fixed straight ahead, but it was clear he wasn’t looking at anything specific. He was somewhere far away, lost in thoughts that were clearly troubling. She walked up to the open door and rapped her knuckles on it. The unexpected sound startled him, and his head snapped towards her. 

“Sorry. I was just dropping off the usual and was walking by…thought I’d say hello,” Rose said softly.

Jack gave her a weak yet genuine smile. “Thanks, Rose,” he said before falling silent once again. 

Though they weren’t really what could be considered good friends, Rose cared and knew enough about Jack to know that something was seriously troubling him, and it worried her to see the normally upbeat and charismatic man so distraught. She took a few more steps forward, stopping before she reached the edge of the door. 

“Y’okay?” she asked softly, her voice infused with concern.

Jack looked up at her, and Rose could see a multitude of emotions race behind his eyes. She suddenly felt uncomfortable at her intrusion. She took a step back and quickly tried to backtrack. 

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to be nosy. Just thought—"

“No, no…it’s fine. ‘S just…just been a rough day,” he assured her rather solemnly. He stood up and walked over to her, giving her a quick side hug. “’Preciate you asking though. I’m gonna go grab a Pecan Braid before Frank finds out you were here. Talk to ya later, Rose,” he said with a small smile and heading towards the lounge.

“Later, Jack,” Rose said warmly, her concern remaining strong as she watched him walk away. She turned and continued towards the lift. She had just pressed the ‘Down’ button, when her mobile started to ring. She reached and pulled it out of her back pocket. As promised, Donna was calling. Grinning, Rose hit _Accept_. 

“So, how bad is it?” she asked knowingly, stepping into the empty lift and pressing _Ground_. 

“It’s a bleedin’ train wreck. One of the newbies called thirty minutes ago and said that it was, quote, ‘too stressful’…today was gonna be their _first day_! They hadn’t even bloody worked yet! Then, the other one is so lost in the whirlwind of chaos we’ve got goin’ on, that I think she’s cried at least twice in the loo. I went over to the bakery to get you but you’d already gone—I assumed on a run. And I know you’ve got your own stuff to do, but _please_ get over here before I go on a bloody rampage—and I mean that literally.”

Rose gave a quiet chuckle. “I’ll be there in ten, ‘kay?”

“I don’t care, just get here!” Donna pleaded before she abruptly ended the call. 

Rose just rolled her eyes good-naturedly and pocketed her mobile.

***

After his verbal tiff with Jack, Ian went straight directly to his office and settled behind his cluttered desk, full intending to review his caseload. However, the events of the morning continued to weigh upon him. Jack’s words combined with the image of the frail mother and her child continued to poke and prod at his mind, preventing him from focusing on anything for long. Then there was the constant barrage of calls, all of which insisted it that it was imperative he speak with them. He’d become quite adept over the past five years at burying unnecessary emotion, but today…for some reason, today was a challenge. Putting a few essentials into his briefcase, he left his office, wordlessly passed his receptionist, and headed out.

_Rendezvous_ was a quaint eatery not far from his office, and Ian was quite impressed with its savory cuisine, resulting in him regularly frequenting it. Normally, he would promptly order, eat, and leave, barely allowing himself time to enjoy his mean let alone the appealing atmosphere. But today, Ian was in need of the patrons’ idle chatter to divert his thoughts. 

It was busier than usual when he arrived. Even so, he was quickly seated and given a menu which he halfheartedly looked through, already decided on one of his usuals. A young man came by and quietly filled his water glass. Ian pulled out a case file and began peering through it, aimlessly sipping on his water as he did so. A few minutes passed by before a figure approached his table. He looked up and his eyes locked with those of a young blonde, dressed in jeans and a white button down, her hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun, and beaming at him. He’d been eating there for months and was familiar with the wait staff, and he was certain she was not one of them. He immediately stiffened at the thought of being approached needlessly by a stranger, but then her smile caught him off guard, so warm and genuine. 

Quickly collecting himself, his gaze hardened slightly. “Can I help you?” he asked in a clipped tone. 

“I think that’s my line,” she softly chuckled, surprisingly not put off by his manner. “I’ll be taking care of ya this afternoon. M’ name’s Rose. So what can I get ya?” she asked, her smile remaining brilliant. 

Ian felt himself fidget under that smile and turned his attention to the menu, forgetting that he’d decided earlier what to order. 

“Do ya need a mo’? Coz I can give you a few,” she said as she motioned to go.

“No,” he said quickly, causing her eyebrow to slightly rise. “No, I’m ready. I’ll have the gnocchi and the Wild Harvest salad—and absolutely no pears. That’s it,” he said and unceremoniously handed her his menu. 

Rose’s lips twitched as she tried to squelch the frown that threatened to surface. She reached forward and took the menu. “I’ll have it out to ya soon. Need anythin’ before I go?” 

Ian looked at her a moment before promptly casting his gaze downward and shaking his head ‘no’ without further addressing her. Giving him another but unseen smile, she turned and went to the kitchen with Ian watching her out of the corner of his eye. 

***

Rose tacked the ticket in front of Donna, who was midway through chopping celery. She had barely taken three steps before Donna let out a ridiculously loud groan. Rose turned around and looked at her, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion. 

“What? I forget something’?” 

“No, it’s the ‘no pears’…I know that bloke; he’s a regular,” she grumbled.

“And that’s a bad thing?” Rose questioned. 

“He’s just a snappy prat. Always brooding and whatnot. He’s just—"

“Rude?” Rose finished.

Donna turned back to face Rose, knife still in hand. “Did he say somethin’ to you? Because—“

“Donna, put the knife down,” Rose said, putting her hand on Donna’s arm and lowering the knife. “He’s fine. He’s just a lil’ moody is all. No need to go butcher ‘im.”

Donna turned back to the celery, muttering under her breath as she resumed her chopping. Rose stepped just outside the kitchen doors and tried to discretely observe the man. Yes, he’d been a tad rude; but there was something about him that struck Rose. When their eyes had met, she had seen something—unfathomable sadness. His dark eyes held so much weight and turmoil that it almost pained her to continue looking at him. Watching him now, she could see he was so absorbed in whatever those papers before him were. It didn’t strike her that he was a “workaholic” so to speak. Rather, it was almost as if he was trying to bury himself away from everything and everyone. Her observations didn’t really have any solid basis—they were purely based on her feelings. Feeling that she was swiftly entering into creeper territory if she watched him any longer, Rose returned to the kitchen. 

***

Ian had caught her out of the side of his eye watching him. Not that _he_ had been consciously watching for her...not really. He’d been struck by her smile when he first saw her. But then his eyes had flitted upwards and met hers and that was when he felt the faintest stirring within him. He could almost physically feel the warmth from them, the kindness, the sincerity…it was nearly intoxicating. He tried not to look at her when she brought his food, but he felt it was beyond his control. His eyes briefly locked with hers as she placed the plate before him. Before he forced himself to look away, he noticed a faint streak of white powder across her forehead, framed by stray golden strands of hair. 

He began to fiercely deride himself for all the abnormal thoughts and feelings that had assaulted him that day. He couldn’t afford to allow himself become an emotional soft spot. He’d allowed himself to be influenced by emotion before and because of that…… He stopped himself before those thoughts took him to a place he did _not_ want to revisit.

He continued to sit there and review his files long after he’d finished his meal and his dishes had been cleared. Every so often, his eyes wandered around the room—just to see how alone he was, of course. On one such wander, he noticed Rose walking towards the entrance, her hair now flowing loosely between her shoulder blades. She was joined with a redheaded woman, the two of them animatedly chatting. They stopped just short of the door and hugged tightly. As Rose exited, he overheard the redhead say “thanks again,” and he found himself wondering if he would ever see her again—a thought that incited him to another round of self-derision. Once again, he forced himself to focus on his work. 

It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes before a figure placed something on his table. It was a small red box with a golden wolf embossed on its top. He immediately looked from it to the person who brought it and was surprised to see that it was the woman from earlier. She was smiling at him again, her warm brown eyes fixated on him. He continued to wordlessly stare at her.

“Hello,” she said softly.

“What’s this?” he asked bluntly, pointing to the box with his pen. 

“’S for you,” she said as if he should have realized it himself. 

He narrowed his eyes at her vagueness. “Yes, but what is it?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Open it later and you'll find out. Well...see ya ‘round.” And with that, she turned and left again. 

He stared after her till she passed through the door before looking back to the box. Dropping his pen, he moved the box close to him. Opening it, he saw a cupcake—golden yellow cake with smooth whipped frosting, crystalized sugar and caramelized banana slice resting on top. On the inside of the box was written “Smile” and signed with her name. He looked at it as if it was some alien relic. He wasn’t sure what to do with it. 

_Most people would just eat it_ said a snarky voice from within. 

He picked up the cupcake and hesitantly took a bite. His taste buds were instantly struck with the melding flavors of moist golden vanilla cake, banana, cream and sugar. It was quite literally the most delectable thing he’d ever eaten, further proved by the fact he finished it in three bites. Though he immensely enjoyed it, he wasn’t sure what to make of the impromptu gift. He decided to do what felt natural and therefore, he shoved it aside from any further consideration. After a few more minutes, he gathered his belongings, including the small red box, and headed to his flat. 

***

It was 10:30 P.M. and he was on his third glass of Lagavulin. He sat down on the edge of his bed and scrubbed his face, releasing a long haggard breath. The whole day had thrown him for a loop and he was overwhelmed with thoughts and emotions he could normally keep at bay. He looked at his nightstand where he had placed the small red box from earlier. Instantly, images of Rose, her brilliant smile and shining eyes, appeared before him. He scrubbed his face again, his attempt at erasing the image of her from his mind. Downing the rest of his drink, he turned off the lamp and settled into bed. 

***

Sunlight peeked through the curtains and caused Ian to stir slightly. A persistent sound broke through the early morning quiet. He rolled over to silence the alarm only to find there was none. The sound persisted and, as his senses began to sharpen, he realized that the sound wasn’t an alarm—it was crying. A child crying. His eyes shot open as he laid on his back, frozen in confusion. He felt movement next to him.

“It’s your turn to get her,” mumbled a sleepy female voice. 

Ian bolted upright in bed and looked beside him in a panic. A woman was lying next to him, blonde hair covering her face. He frantically stumbled out of bed and was immediately hit with the realization that he was not in his flat. The child continued to cry causing the woman to stir. She propped herself up on her elbow and pulled her hair back from her face. When he saw her, his jaw dropped open in shock. 

It was Rose. 

The sunlight reflected off of something on her hand and he realized she was wearing a ring. He scrubbed his face and felt a cool metal touch his skin. He jerked his hands away from his face as if he had been burned. He looked at them and saw a gold band on his left hand. He continued to stare at it in fear and bafflement. 

“Ian?” Rose worriedly called to him. 

He stumbled back a few steps as he felt the room start to spin. Despite everything flooding over him, one question continued to reverberate. 

_What’s happening?_


	2. A Life Not Lived

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter: Nice Dream--Radiohead

The room continued to spin as Ian stood there staring at Rose, his mouth agape at an almost unnatural length. Rose lifted herself up off her elbow so that she was sitting straight up in bed. Her eyes were clearly troubled as her anxiety continued to build over Ian’s unexplained behavior. 

“Ian… What’s wrong?” she asked, shifting her body in his direction though remaining in bed. 

He staggered back at her movement as if afraid of her, causing him to make harsh contact with the wall behind him. His legs finally gave way, his knees buckled, and he sank to the floor, his hands clutching his head. Rose was no longer able to mask her panic. She scurried off the bed and was at his side in an instant.

She dropped to the floor with such force that bruised knees were a certainty. “Ian, you’re scaring me!”

Ian continued to remain silent—gaping at what he was sure was an apparition, a hallucination, something other than a living, breathing entity. Rose took his face into her hands, grasping him tightly.

“Talk to me, love!” she pleaded, no longer able to conceal the terror she was experiencing. 

The touch of her delicate hands on his face sent a shock through him unlike any other. For one fleeting moment, the room stopped spinning and everything came into focus. Her eyes were intensely fixated on him, searching his own. They were brimming with a mixture of pure love and fear, and it was all directed at him. In that moment, he was captivated. He couldn’t breathe—the intensity of the feelings conveyed was overwhelming. He grabbed her wrists and pushed her away from him, breaking the spell. She teetered back as he scrambled upwards, clutching the doorframe for support. Rose looked up at him, unable to rise due to utter confusion. Their eyes locked one more time, before he whirled around and rushed out of the bedroom. 

Ian had to get away; he didn’t belong there. He had to figure out what was going on, and to do that he had to leave. He saw the stairs and sprinted down them, almost losing his balance in his haste. He rushed for the front door, but then realized that he was in flannel bottoms and a white undershirt—not what he remembered going to bed in. Without thinking, he grabbed the long brown coat hanging by the door and the set of keys in the bowl on the table beside him. Throwing the door open, he ran outside and hit the _Unlock_ button. When the lights flashed, he jumped into the car and gunned the ignition, leaving a scared and confused Rose calling out to him from the stoop. 

***

Ian did his best to focus on the road while he attempted to slow his breathing. The neighborhood looked familiar, but it wasn’t _his_ neighborhood. It wasn’t _his_ home. _She_ wasn’t… His mind was instantly assaulted with the image of waking up next to her—the sun in her hair, the look in her eyes as she held his face. He felt himself begin to struggle for air. He frantically groped for the window control as panic and the need to breathe began to overtake him. He was finally able to locate it and quickly lowered the window, taking in long rasping breaths. Somehow, he still managed to maintain control the vehicle and not careen into oncoming traffic. All reason and thinking ability had left him and he now was operating on automatic, guided by some subconscious force. That being the case, it came as a surprise to him when he suddenly stopped in front of his flat. He leapt out of the car, keys still in the ignition. He rushed towards the entrance, but was stopped abruptly by the doorman.

“Can I help you, sir?” the man asked politely.

Ian inspected the man before him. This wasn’t his doorman. _His_ doorman was a short, portly older man in his sixties. _This_ man was rather tall and couldn’t be older than his mid-thirties. 

“I live here,” he said as he moved towards the entrance. 

The man held up his hands and slightly moved into Ian’s pathway. “I think you’re mistaken, sir. I know all the residents in this building, and I’ve never seen you before.”

Ian narrowed his eyes at the man. “Listen, I’ve lived here for three years, so if anyone is mistaken, it’s _you_ ,” he said, his tone stopping just short of a growl. 

The man stiffened his stance and looked pointedly at Ian. “Sir, I’ve worked here for the past _four_ years and I’ve _never_ _once_ seen you,” he said firmly. “Now you’ve obviously had a long night—“ 

“I am _not_ hung-over,” Ian replied emphatically, glaring at the man. 

“Listen mate—your hair’s a mess, and you’re in flannels and an overcoat. _And_ you don’t know where ya live, so…why don’t I phone someone for ya? Who-..."

“No!” Ian snapped. He angrily ran his hands through his hair, furthering his madman appearance. He knew any further discussion would be pointless. He stomped back to the car and flung himself into the driver seat, slamming the door after him. He closed his eyes and exhaled a shuddering breath. Fury and frustration finally culminated and he beat his fists into the steering wheel. After he finished, he sank into the seat. He sat there completely dazed, unable to process what had transpired that morning. The more he contemplated the insanity, the more he began to downward spiral. He was jerked from his descent by a vibration in his coat pocket. He shuffled around and pulled out a mobile. The Caller ID displayed a picture of Rose blowing him a kiss; one she’d obviously taken of herself. Ian was so riveted by the smile in her eyes, the fullness of her lips, the look of love staring straight at him…so much was contained in such a simple photo. He couldn’t bring himself to answer her. What would he even say? He still couldn’t even believe that this was anything more than an unbelievably realistic nightmare.

He looked at the idle phone still clutched in his hands. It didn’t look like his mobile, but he slid his finger across the touchscreen anyway, and a passcode screen appeared. He puffed out his cheeks and then released his held breath. He keyed in his usual code but it was incorrect. He tried a few other combinations but all were unsuccessful. Something about the phone was nagging him, but he couldn’t place it. Then, the words of the doorman prodded at him. He pressed the _Home_ button and looked at the date. His chin slacked and his mind became a complete blank at what he saw. The date was the same but with one exception—the year was different. It was Saturday, November 2, 2019. He was six years into the future.

****

Ian was back at the home he’d woken up in that morning. He had stopped just a few blocks away, not wanting to be seen before he had worked up the nerve to go back in. Earlier, he’d found a GPS in the middle console. He’d hit the _Home_ button and fifteen minutes later he arrived there. In that time, he’d received five calls from Rose, seven from someone labeled “Slap Happy,” and surprisingly, three from Jack. All went unanswered. He had absolutely no idea what he was going to do next. He had briefly thought about trying to go to familiar haunts or searching out people he knew, but after seeing that he was six years forward in time, he didn’t see any point. Instead, he reasoned that the best chance he had of getting some semblance of an answer to this situation was to go back to the beginning. After taking several steadying breaths, he hesitantly got out of the car and climbed the steps. His hand rested on the doorknob for a few seconds before turning it and opening the door. He quietly closed it behind him and removed his coat. When he turned forward, he instantly saw Rose sitting on the stairs, mobile to her ear. Their eyes locked and he saw her sigh in relief. 

“He’s back… Okay, I will… thanks, Jack…you, too. Bye,” she said softly and ended the call. They both continued to stare at each other, neither one making an attempt to move. Suddenly, Rose stood up and pulled her oversized sweater tight around her, then walked towards him. He stood there motionless, the urge to flee warring with the unexpectedly fierce desire to be near her. Before he realized it, she was standing in front of him. Her eyes were red and slightly bloodshot; obviously she’d been crying. He was surprised that knowing that fact pained him. He was overcome with the intense desire to pull her into his arms and comfort her, but he held fast. He didn’t know her, had only met her yesterday…if it really was yesterday.

Rose looked up at him, searching his face for answers he wasn’t verbally giving her. Without a word, she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face into his chest. He was taken aback, but then his arms wrapped loosely around her. He felt her tears seep through his shirt. All of sudden he felt a sharp twist in his side; she’d pinched him.

“Ow!” he yelped, rubbing his side. 

Her face became serious and she eyed him squarely. “Don’t you ever, _ever_ do that to me again, ya hear me? Make no mistake, we _will_ be talkin’ ‘bout this later, but right now, I just…” She trailed off as she buried herself further into him. Against his will, his arms tightened around her as he inhaled her scent, unexpectedly relishing in the unique sensations it brought him. She trailed her arm down and grasped his hand, intertwining her fingers with his. Ian instinctively pulled away, unfamiliar with such contact, but Rose didn’t seem to notice. Instead, she held his hand and walked forward towards the main part of the home. He remained silent as they walked, unsure at what to say since there were no words anywhere within him. Rose stopped unexpectedly and turned to face him. There was an expression in her eyes that he could not read. 

“Um…Mum’s here so just…brace yourself,” she said and gave him a quick kiss to the cheek. Again Ian just stood there, making no attempt to reciprocate. He followed her into the living room and took in the scene before him. A man was sitting on the couch and flipping through the channels on the telly. The ginger haired woman from _Rendezvous_ was directly across from him and sitting on the floor. She had a small child on her lap and was flipping through what appeared to be a picture book. The child, a little girl, appeared no older than two and had two tiny chestnut pigtails on the top of her head. She looked up at the ginger haired woman, allowing Ian a glimpse of her face. He felt his breath hitch as he saw the little one’s eyes. They were a deep brown, mirroring his own. The resemblance was unmistakable and in that moment he knew who she was.

_She’s…mine…_

The room was beginning to spin again, and he felt a wave of nausea come over him. He turned to find the loo but was stopped by a sudden searing pain to his face. Startled, he took a couple steps backward. When his vision came back into focus, he saw an older blonde haired woman before him, nostrils flaring and eyes blazing.

“Where have you bleedin’ been?” she shrieked at him.

He rubbed his cheek, too dumbfounded to speak. He suddenly remembered that she was the woman in the picture ID for “Slap Happy.” 

The man on the couch turned to face them. He furrowed his brow. “Jacks--..."

“Slap Happy” cut the man off and continued her tongue lashing. “Ya run outta here without a word. Don’t say where you’re goin’. Don’t answer your bloody mobile. Nothin’! Ya have us gettin’ ready to send out the dogs for you! Ya scared Rose half to death. And that’s the last thing she needs right now!” she shouted, raising her hand again. 

Ian winced as her palm approached him, but Rose grabbed her wrist before she could make contact. 

“Mum, that’s enough!” she scolded. Giving Ian a sideways glance, she whispered, “I told you to brace yourself.”

Before he could reply to either of them, “Slap Happy” turned her attention to Rose, her eyes softening just a tad. “A slap’s the least he deserves, believe me! Lord knows ya don’t need any added stress, not in your state,” she said worriedly. 

Rose rolled her eyes but still instinctively put a protective hand to her belly. It was only then that Ian realized the small swell to Rose’s stomach. He felt his stomach drop in unison with his eyes bulging from their sockets. 

“Y-you…you’re pregnant…,” he stuttered as he began to feel lightheaded. 

“No, she just swallowed a melon,” the redhead smarted off. “Of course she’s pregnant, Dumbo. What exactly have ya been smoking? Have y-...”

“Alright, that’s enough,” the older man said authoritatively, throwing the remote control onto the couch as he stood. 

All eyes turned to him. “What’s important right now, is that Ian’s back an’ he’s safe. W-..."

Rose’s mum cut him off. “Pete, he left our-..." 

“I know, Jackie. But they need to discuss it with each other before they do with anyone else. So you, me, and Donna are gonna go and let _them_ take care of this,” he said decidedly. 

Pete and Jackie stared each other down for a few moments before Jackie begrudgingly yielded, muttering threats and swears under her breath. She gave Rose a quick peck to the cheek and Ian another piercing glare before stomping off towards the front door. Donna stood and put the little girl in her playpen. She walked up to Rose and gave her a tight hug. She then turned to Ian and surprisingly pulled him in for a quick hug. 

“Don’t think you’re getting off that easy,” she threatened with a whisper. She pulled back and smiled at him, a mischievous, almost foreboding look glinting in her eyes. She patted his reddened cheek and followed after Jackie. 

Pete walked up to Rose and kissed her forehead. “You sure you’re okay, sweetheart?” he asked softly. 

“’M fine, Dad. Thanks,” she assured him with a smile, the first one all morning. 

Pete smiled warmly at her before giving her another quick peck. He looked at Ian squarely. Ian took a hard swallow, feeling more intimidated by this protective father than he was by the mother. Pete took a breath before walking past him and exiting with the two women. 

“I thought he was going to hit me,” Ian said, sighing in relief. 

“He still might,” Rose said, half-jokingly. She began to pick up the toys and books off the floor and put them in the toy bin. When she got to a blue banana, she picked it up and wiggled it in front of the little girl. She squealed with delight, and Rose giggled at her reaction. 

“Ya like this one, do ya?” She beamed at her. Walking over to her pen, she held it out for the little girl. “Here ya go, Livy.”

Livy snatched it out of Rose’s hands and promptly began chewing on one of the hanging peels. Ian continued to stand there, his attention divided between Rose and Livy. 

“You gonna stand like that all day?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“Um, I guess not,” he mumbled and plopped onto the couch, diverting his gaze to the muted telly.

Rose stood up straight and eyed him curiously. “Ya hungry?”

Ian shook his head ‘No.’

“Cuppa?” 

He nodded, keeping his eyes straight ahead. He heard a frustrated sigh from Rose as she left and he rubbed his forehead. What was he supposed to do? Pretend like he knew what was happening? Act like he loved this woman, this child who he’d never laid eyes on till now? Granted, he had felt something when she wrapped him in an embrace, but that meant nothing. She was a beautiful woman—who wouldn’t feel something if she decided to pay them attention? 

Rose appeared again in the living room and held out a mug to him. He finally looked at her and took it, mumbling his thanks. She joined him on the couch, sitting on the end with her legs curled up and facing him. She silently sipped on her steaming tea. After several minutes, she finally broke the strained silence.

“Tell me what’s goin’ on.”

He met her eyes hesitantly, leery of what he’d find there. She was looking at him earnestly, confusion and worry mixing with what he sensed was anger. 

“I-I…don’t know,” he said slowly. 

Her eyes narrowed. “What do ya mean you don’t know?” she said, her voice rising slightly. 

“I mean _I don’t know_!” he shouted, jumping up and sloshing tea. The steaming contents splashed onto his hand, scalding him. Ian hollered in pain and dropped his cup onto the floor. Rose was instantly on her feet. 

“Lemme see,” she said worriedly and reached for his hand. 

He pulled away. “I’m fine.”

“Just gi—“

“I said it’s fine,” he snapped, partly because of the pain and partly because he was just frustrated beyond belief. 

Rose’s eyes flashed with anger. “Cillian! Give. Me. Your hand!” she demanded. 

Mutely, Ian held his hand out. No one called him ‘Cillian.’ In fact, he made sure to never use it or tell anyone about it. It was an old family name and he wasn’t particularly fond of it. The fact that she _knew_ it and _used_ it…well, he just added it to the list of things of which he couldn’t make heads or tails. 

“C’mon,” she said, leading him by his arm to the kitchen, careful to avoid the large reddened area of skin on his hand. 

Once in the kitchen, Rose walked over to the windowsill and broke off a piece of a green spikey looking plant. She walked back to him and went to put it on his skin, but he jerked his hand back. She looked up at him severely, her eyes demanding compliance. He moved his hand back.

“’S aloe. It’ll help with the burn,” she said as she gently glided the clear substance over his skin, focusing intently on her task. 

Ian’s eyes were fixated on her as she worked. “Where’d you learn that?” he asked softly.

“My gran. She was always into home remedies. Don’t ya remember?” she asked, looking up at him inquisitively.

“Oh, yeah. Must of just slipped my mind,” he covered, looking away.

She faintly nodded her head. “There ya go,” she said and let go of his hand. She turned and grabbed a kitchen towel and moved towards the living room. Ian walked with her. Once there, she began to bend down to clean the spill.

“What are you doing?” Ian asked, grabbing her arm and stopping her. 

“I’m cleaning up the mess.”

“I’ll do it,” he said and took the towel from her. He stooped and quickly sopped up the spill. Rose stood there and silently watched him. 

When he was done, he stood up and briefly looked at her. “I’ll just…," he trailed off and left in search of the laundry. It was surprisingly easy to find, and once there, Ian put his hands on the washer, bracing himself. He closed his eyes and took a few breaths. 

“”M sorry.”

He whirled around at Rose’s unexpected voice. He furrowed his brow in confusion at her apology. “What for?”

She ran a hand through her hair and sighed. “I just realized what’s going on.”

“You do?” he asked, his eyebrows now rocketing in surprise. 

“Yeah. It’s the anniversary. Or it will be in a couple days,” she said, her voice full of understanding and love.

Ian’s eyes locked with hers and became serious. She couldn’t mean… There was _no way_ she knew about that. He was tempted to ask what she meant, but he didn’t want to chance it. He couldn’t handle that on top of everything else he was struggling with, so he remained silent.

“I didn’t realize that you were having a rough go this time. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen ya like this and… I’m sorry, babe,” she walked over to him and brushed her lips against his before wrapping her arms around him again. 

Ian was too stunned to react. Instead, he allowed himself to be comforted by her. Livy began to cry and Rose broke her hold on him. Briefly cupping his cheek, she turned and went to attend to the upset little one. He stared after her. This was becoming too much. He was in a home he didn’t know, with a woman he didn’t know, and with small child…and apparently another one on the way! And then the bit about the anniversary…the possibility still blew his mind. He ran a hand through his erratic hair and went to the living room. 

****

The hours passed by rapidly. He spent the better part of the day rotating between sitting dazedly on the couch and avoiding any real contact with Rose and Livy. Rose continued to glance at him worriedly throughout the day. Whenever he allowed her close to him, she would sit next to him and quietly take his hand, lacing their fingers. Occasionally, she would kiss his knuckles or gently stroke his skin with her thumb. It startled him that such small gestures were actually providing a modicum of comfort and reassurance. Often times, he would pull his hand away, uncertain how to respond to such feelings. He hadn’t experienced them in so long they were practically foreign to him. Rose would appear hurt at times but she would continue to smile softly yet genuinely at him. It was almost as if she understood what was running through his mind, though there was no possible way she could. 

Night finally arrived and around 8:00 P.M., Ian climbed the stairs—alone—and went into the bedroom. He tried not to focus on anything within the room, but one thing couldn’t help but capture his attention. On the table by the left side of the bed, the one he’d woken up on, there was a photo of him and Rose. It was clearly an unplanned photo. They were on a beach, the waves crashing behind them, and he had ahold of her. It appeared as if he had snuck up behind her and grabbed her. There was a brilliant laugh on her face, and he…the look on his face almost surpassed hers. Ian felt his throat tighten. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been happy like that. He wasn’t even sure he had. Tearing his eyes away, he walked into the loo and splashed his face with cold water. He hadn’t bothered to change all day, afraid to go snooping through “his” clothes. Mentally exhausted, he fell onto the mattress, not even bothering to pull back the covers. His eyelids heavy, it wasn’t long before he drifted off to sleep. 

****

Ian turned over onto his side, allowing the sunlight to cast its rays over his face. He stirred, and then was hit with memories of a life that was not his own. He shot straight up and looked to his side. There was no one there. He looked around in another panic. He was back in his flat, no longer wearing the flannels and undershirt, but was in the pajamas he remembered putting on. Everything was as it had been, right down to the red box and tumbler on the nightstand. He leapt over and searched for his mobile. He pressed the _Home_ button and checked the date. The color drained from his face and he staggered to the loo, dry heaving into the sink. It was Saturday, November 2.

_2013._


	3. The First Morning After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saturday, November 2, 2013
> 
> Standing In Front of You–Kelly Clarkson

Rose woke that morning feeling particularly rough. Normally, sleep was not something she struggled with. If anything, it came rather naturally to her. But last night she did nothing but restlessly shift and turn, unable to drift off into the desired slumber. All of this did nothing to help her morning mood. She was most certainly not a morning person, even with adequate sleep. Take that away and she was a bear to be around—at least until she’d had a cup of coffee or her preferred cuppa. But she adored her bakery and could think of doing nothing else, so it was an accepted annoyance. Plus, on Saturdays she closed at noon, and unless she had an inordinate amount of deliveries, she was able to have the majority of the day at her disposal. 

Her morning was fairly steady and didn’t afford much downtime. But in those infrequent times, Rose found her thoughts drifting to the man she’d met yesterday. He’d been short bordering on rude. Well, to be frank, he _had_ been rude; there was no bordering about it. _Yes_ , she’d found him attractive—extremely, in fact. But she’d only spent all of five minutes with him; so why was he in her thoughts like he was currently? Deciding to be completely honest with herself, it was because of what she had witnessed in those few fleeting moments. What Rose had seen in his eyes had left such an impression on her that it was impossible to wipe it from her memory. She’d never seen anything like it before. There was such unfathomable anguish within those dark eyes; they were wholly bereft of hope. She had been consumed with an almost overwhelming desire to take his hand, to comfort him, to ease his pain, to even bear it with him. Rose had never felt such intensity before. It was startling, but yet somehow, it felt right…with _him_.

In a few short hours it was time to close up the bakery for the day, and Rose felt rather anxious to do so quickly. She couldn’t determine exactly why, but she felt restless, like she needed to go somewhere or do something. She wiped down the cases and surfaces, and decided that she would pop over and see if Donna felt like playing hooky. Maybe then she would be able to keep him out of her thoughts. Turning off the lights and locking the door, Rose turned and began walking the few blocks to _Rendezvous_.

****

Donna continued to do her prep work for the dinner hour, while Rose continued to sit next to her, aimlessly swirling her straw around her glass. Despite her best efforts, Rose had been unable to convince Donna to leave early. The new hire’s unexpected desertion yesterday put them short staffed and there was no way she could leave. Rose pouted for a bit at her plans being thwarted, but quickly brightened and decided to stay with Donna for a little while, seeing as she had no other plans.

Donna eyed Rose curiously. She was being peculiarly quiet. She just kept turning her straw around and around, her eyes transfixed on the swirling liquid. It was obvious that she was thinking intently on something. There was no way her drink was _that_ interesting.

“What’s with you?” Donna said, nudging Rose with her elbow. 

Rose looked up from her drink somewhat absentmindedly. “What?”

“You. Odd. Why?” Donna said teasingly.

Rose wrinkled her brow. “I’m not actin’ odd. What makes ya say that?”

Donna quirked an eyebrow at her. “Because you _are_ acting odd. You’re all quiet and pensive-like. And you look like you’re about to be sucked into that drink of yours.”

“I’m just sittin’ here, s’all,” she replied with a shrug of the shoulders.

Donna snorted at her poor excuse for an answer.

There was a brief pause before Rose suddenly spoke. “So…speaking of brooding…”

“When were we doin’ that?” Donna asked with raised eyebrows. 

“Pensive, brooding…it’s basically the same thing. Anyway…that bloke yesterday, the ‘no pears’ one…what do you, uh…know about ‘im?”

“Why?” Donna drawled, narrowing her eyes at Rose. She wasn’t certain she liked where this line of questioning was headed.

“No reason. Just askin’,” Rose said, shaking her head nonchalantly and avoiding Donna’s pointed look.

Donna made no effort to answer the question, and instead began rolling silverware.

“Soo…,” Rose prompted, staring at her as she waited for a response. 

“What?” she asked as if she hadn’t heard Rose’s question, and never taking her eyes away from her task. 

“Donna,” Rose groaned. She was still tired and didn’t feel like doing this ridiculous dance.

Donna finally stopped what she was doing and looked over at Rose. “Fine…he hates pears and he’s a prat. That’s all I know,” she grumbled.

Rose scrunched her brows together at Donna’s gruff demeanor. “Why are you being so touchy?”

“I’m not being touchy!” she insisted.

Rose’s eyebrows questioningly shot upwards. “Oh, really?”

“I don’t know,” she sighed resignedly. “I just don’t want ya to saddle up with some wanker. Not that he is one, but he’s definitely got something goin’ on. Ya can’t blame me for being a lil’ bit on alert.”

“I’m not ‘saddling up’ with anyone. It was an innocent question,” Rose assured her, doing her best to play it off as nothing. 

“Of course it was,” Donna said, giving a patronizing nod and resuming her previous task. 

A brief pause passed before Rose spoke up again. “So, is that really all ya know about ‘im?”

Donna couldn’t help but snort in amusement before chucking a napkin at Rose’s head. 

****

Ian wretched for the better part of ten minutes till there was nothing left within him. He limply staggered to the vanity and braced himself against the sink. He turned on the faucet and allowed the tepid water to pool into his palm before shakily lifting the contents to his lips and rinsing his mouth. When he was finished, he turned off the water and looked at his reflection in the mirror. Even the bright lights were unable to lessen the appearance of the dark circles under his eyes. Strength slowly began to return to his feeble frame, allowing him to hobble over to the shower. As the hot water poured down and the steam billowed around him, he finally allowed his mind to recall all of the details and events he’d been keeping at bay.

He must have been drugged. That had to be the only logical explanation for what had transpired, didn’t it? It all had to have been a surreal, drug-induced dream—or nightmare, depending on how one looked at it. Quite frankly, he wasn’t sure how to view it. Every single detail had felt eerily real—the early morning chill as he rushed to the car, Rose’s warmth as she buried herself into his chest, the searing pain of her mum’s slap to his cheek, the scalding tea on his hand, Rose’s soft lips ghosting over his own. Every sensation had been overwhelming and tangible, but it _couldn’t_ have been real…could it?

No, he decided. No matter what he thought, no matter what he _felt_ —it was just impossible. Focusing on that, on his decided absolute certainty that it was all an elaborate drug-induced figment of his subconscious, he found more of his strength return to him. Anger and confusion are powerful stimuli, and Ian had an abundant supply of both. He hurriedly scrubbed and rinsed off. Stepping out of the shower, he allowed the steam to envelope him while he wrapped himself with a towel and walked determinedly to his bedroom closet, slamming around hangers as he searched for something to wear. He had one goal in mind—get answers. And that’s _exactly_ what he was going to do. 

****

Forty-five minutes later, Ian walked into _Rendezvous_. Well, he didn’t so much as walk as he did storm into the restaurant. It was half after two and a few customers were spread sporadically across the room. He immediately noticed a blonde at the hostess’ stand, her back towards him. In two strides he was in front of her. His heavy footsteps caused her to turn and face him, revealing a woman he'd only seen a handful of times and who was most certainly not Rose. Ian’s eyes slightly widened in surprise that his assumption had been wrong. He refocused and steeled himself, turning his cold eyes directly to hers. 

She was young, no more than twenty, with her blonde hair pulled into a tight ponytail. She also had a sweet air about her which Ian found extremely irritating, especially in his current state of mind. When his cold eyes met her gaze, her normally bright smile faltered and she instantly felt herself become uneasy under his scrutiny. She nervously swallowed and willed herself to smile, though it lacked its usual cheeriness. 

“Hello, I’m Lynda. How ma-..."

“I’m looking for Rose,” he curtly interrupted.

Lynda did her best to keep a kind smile on her face, even though this man’s aggressive nature put her off kilter. Rose was still in the kitchen with Donna, but Lynda felt that she should try to determine what exactly he wanted before she divulged that. For some reason, she sensed that Donna would be less than pleased with her if she didn’t try. Straightening herself up in an effort to inspire confidence, more for herself than him, she addressed him.

“Can I ask who ya are?” she said politely. 

Ian’s eyes remained cold as ice. “No,” he said, his tone brooking absolute refusal to pursue the subject further.

Lynda felt herself begin to tremble the longer those dark piercing ears bored into her. However, she refused to cower. Holding her ground, she countered, “Then I’m afraid I can’t help you. Now, would you like a table o-..."

He moved closer to her, intimidating her to her core. “Now listen to me,” he said, his voice direct and manner unyielding, “I know she’s here. If she wasn’t, you would’ve just come out and said so. Instead, you asked me to state my purpose—which is none of your business. Now I want to see her. I’m not asking.”

The look that now passed over his eyes let her know that it was in her best interests to end her inquiry. Silently, she turned and went towards the kitchen. As she pushed the door open, she caught sight of Rose and Donna practically cackling about something or another. Lynda debated on informing both of them about the man’s presence, but at that moment, she found him more foreboding than Donna. 

Deciding her course of action, Lynda walked up to Rose and said, “Hey Rose, can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Rose replied, smiling and looking up at her expectantly. 

“It’s, uh…kinda private. Can we…,” she trailed off and motioned towards the dining area. 

Donna crinkled her brow, but remained uncharacteristically quiet. Rose seemed to not notice anything abnormal, and stood up and followed her to the door. 

Stopping just before exiting, Lynda whispered, “Um…okay…there’s some bloke out front who says he wants to see ya. And he’s pretty insistent on it.”

Rose furrowed her brow in confusion and slight concern. She looked through the small circular window to see the man from yesterday. He was clearly in an agitated state which further added to her confusion. 

“Did he say why?”

Lynda fidgeted as she recalled their brief conversation. “I asked but he was rather…tightlipped ‘bout it. But if you want me to throw ‘im out or call the cops, just tell me and I’ll do it.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head, “that’s not necessary. We don’t need to tell _anyone_. Ya get me?” Rose motioned towards Donna with her eyes. 

Lynda winked in understanding, and Rose went into the dining room.

****

Rose saw the man pace somewhat in a circle. She didn’t know anything about him, but she could instantly tell that something was off. He was nothing like he was the day before. He’d been closed off, only allowing his rudeness to come through. But today…today he was fully of barely restrained emotion, and none of it was good based on the expression on his face and his relentless pacing. She was at a loss as to what could have provoked him to such behavior. Surely he couldn’t be this worked up over a banana cupcake? 

Cautiously, she walked over to him. He must have either sensed her approach or caught a peripheral glimpse of her because he whipped his head around and bored his eyes into her. The intensity in his eyes was startling. The pain and anguish she’d observed yesterday was barely visible; now it was almost completely masked by burning anger and what looked like fear. Despite this, she smiled genuinely at him. They were barely within speaking distance before he turned on her.

“What was in that thing you gave me?” he demanded all the while pummeling the bone stirring sensation he felt on seeing her face again. He did _not_ feel anything for this woman, no matter what he was experiencing. It meant nothing, he repeatedly told himself.

She looked at him completely gobsmacked. What was in it? What did he mean by _that_?

“Umm…eggs, sugar, butter…,” she listed off.

His eyes became narrow slits yet the retained their foreboding appearance. “What else?”

Now it was Rose’s turn to alter _her_ gaze. “What exactly are you askin’?”

“Last night, I went to sleep and then…,” he trailed off as their eyes continued to meet. He was not about to relate the insanity he’d experienced.

Rose crossed her arms and looked at him in confused and irritated expectation. “What?”

“Just…something,” he evaded, “And the only thing out of the ordinary was that I ate that cupcake.”

“Look, I’m sorry if it made you sick,” she said in earnest, “I just thought you could use a pick-me-up.”

Ian could feel her warmth and sincerity, but he fought against it. He had to remain in control of this situation and himself. It was all he had left in a world he felt was beginning to crumble around him. He forced back any gratitude he might have been feeling and focused on his anger and fear. 

“Well I don’t need or want your meddling. Focus on yourself and just stay out of my life,” he snapped. 

Rose flinched at his words, hurt evident in her eyes. Ian instantly felt what he identified as regret at causing her pain. Again he felt the instinctual, almost essential, need to comfort her but he remained unyielding to its power. 

Rose averted her eyes and sniffed, trying to contain her building emotions. When she looked at him again, her eyes were guarded. Ian fully expected a fiery tirade after how he had just acted. 

Instead, she held his gaze and simply said, “Fine.” With that, she turned from him and walk towards the loo. 

As he watched her disappear from sight, he gave a low growl and tugged on his hair in restrained fury before leaving for what he suspected was the final time.

****

Rose held her composure until she reached the loo; but the second she turned the lock, she broke down into silent sobs. She couldn’t fathom why his words had affected her so, but they had felt like a knife to her heart. He was just another cold, self-centered git—what did she care? But the more she thought of him, the harder her tears fell. 

Why did this matter so much to her?

****

After his confrontation with Rose, Ian immediately returned to his flat and began going through the workload he’d previously brought home. He tried to completely immerse himself in his work, but it was a continuous struggle. After several hours of fighting, he threw his pen in frustration and ran his hands angrily through his hair. He leaned back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose in thought. He was full of conflicting emotions. He knew he’d been cruel, but why should that bother him? Despite what he’d “dreamed,” he had no relationship with her; she meant nothing to him. Yet no matter how hard he tried to engrain those sentiments into his mind, he could not shake the small sense of guilt and remorse within him. 

He closed down his laptop and trekked wearily to his bedroom. He quickly changed out of the suit he’d decided on earlier and into the first pair of pajamas he came across in his drawer. He sat down on the side of his bed and scrubbed his face. He couldn’t get Rose out of his mind; and the more he thought about her, the more he recalled the life he’d “imagined” with her. He finally, and somewhat reluctantly, shook himself out of such wanderings. They were pointless. It wasn’t real; it would _never_ be real: and that was the end of it. Those were the last things on his mind as he drifted off to sleep. 

****

The early morning quiet was abruptly shattered by the sound of his mobile ringing. Eyes still closed, Ian fumbled around on the nightstand till he found his phone and pressed the power button once to ignore the call, effectively ending the persistent and unwelcomed noise. He felt a pressure on his chest causing him to stir and bring his hand up to move whatever it was. His fingers immediately skimmed across soft skin. At the contact, Ian’s eyes flew open and he had a sudden sense of déjà vu. He looked down at his chest and saw an arm draped across him. His eyes trailed down that arm and to its source—Rose. He looked around, panic beginning to rise though not as overpowering as before. He was in the flannels and lying on top of the covers, just as he remembered. This time he remained motionless as every conceivable emotion and thought cascaded over him. He reached back over and grabbed his phone from the nightstand. He hovered his phone over the home button. Taking a ragged breath and elongated exhale, he mustered his courage and pressed the button.

It was Sunday, November 3, 2019.

He was back.


	4. First Steps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sunday, November 3, 2019
> 
> Lift Me Up–Mree

Ian’s body remained rigid. Even his breathing became shallow, as he feared the slightest movement would wake the tranquil figure sprawled across him. He took in a small breath and immediately the scent of coconut and vanilla struck his senses. It was foreign, yet oddly familiar to him. He found it warm, inviting, even soothing. The impulse was too strong to fight, and he inhaled again. A few stray hairs tickled his nostrils, and he stifled a sneeze. He so badly wanted to cast his eyes down to her face, but he denied himself that luxury. The longer he remained with her, the more strength his repressed emotions found. He had to break contact with her. Tentatively, he shifted his body ever so slightly to the side, gauging her response as he did so. 

Nothing. 

He moved again, this time with slightly more force and further in distance. Still, she remained asleep, almost as if she were dead to the world. He moved once more, finally untangling himself from her. Though he knew it was unnecessary, Ian found himself standing there and watching the rise and fall of her chest to ensure she was actually breathing. And if his gaze lingered on her slumbering figure slightly longer than necessary, well that was just purely by accident. He tore his gaze away from her and quietly left the bedroom. 

The house was entirely silent and Ian found it strangely calming, something he desperately needed to combat the panic that threatened to overtake him at any random moment. Their bedroom was on th—wait…oh no… he couldn’t, _wouldn’t_ think of the bedroom as _theirs_. That implied he had a relationship with this woman, that they had a life together, and that… _that_ was not something he could afford to entertain. So, refocusing his thoughts and mentally distancing himself as much as possible, he took in his surroundings. The bedroom he’d awoken in was on the upstairs floor. He stepped lightly across the cold wooden floor and down the hallway. 

The first door he came to was slightly ajar, but he knew the instant he saw it that he would not be entering it. It was painted to look like the surface of a tree with intricate vines detailing it. The hand painted precision and detail was most impressive, and Ian couldn't help but admire the artistry. Though inviting, one glaring detail kept him away—the name _Olivia_ etched into the surface. The idea of opening that literal, and proverbial, door was a prospect too shocking to entertain. He had to get some semblance of bearings underneath him before he started venturing into that territory. 

Passing by her door, he took in the few other rooms—a guestroom, a loo, and another room that was under remodel (if the plastic sheet covering the door was any indication). At the end of the hall, he came to an office, obviously his. He stepped through the open door and looked around the dimly lit room. It was nothing like his office—or at least his other office, the one he remembered sitting in last night as he fought off feelings of guilt and images of Rose. This room had a sense of order and function, but unlike the other, there was no sense of detachment here. This room felt lived in, was actually part of the home. There were bookshelves against the left wall, and they were lined with the same law and case volumes he had at the flat, along with some others that he didn’t remember ever seeing. There were a few other items scattered throughout the room—a blanket on the small sofa, a baby bottle on the floor, a couple of plush toys.

He went over to the desk and sat in his chair. His laptop was open and he immediately noticed the screensaver. It was pictures of this life he was currently in and he couldn’t help but watch, anxious to absorb any details that could help him navigate through this unfamiliar territory. What he saw left him in awe. Photo after photo conveyed a life so different from what he was living. There were countless pictures of him and Rose, many of the little girl, various places he assumed were holiday destinations, and more. And in each one there was a common thread—he was happy. There was a look of complete contentment about him that he hadn’t seen in so long. In fact, the last time he even remembered being remotely happy was…  
  
He swiftly put up a wall in front of those memories; he would _not_ entertain them. His gaze flickered over to the blue frame resting next to the laptop. It was a black and white wedding photo of him dipping Rose mid-dance. As he looked upon that photo, it occurred to him that the majority of the photos taken were spontaneous. So many moments of happiness and love were captured naturally; and even the ones that were posed didn’t appear insincere. He could barely fathom being that happy in life. In his experience, happiness was a fool’s luxury, and he’d stopped being a fool years ago. 

A child’s cries pulled him from his musings. Ian remained frozen in his chair as the cries continued, praying that Rose would take care of whatever was needed. Several minutes passed and the cries persisted. He suddenly found himself in front of Olivia's door, his hand resting on it, ready to push it open. Realizing where he was, he jerked back and turned towards the master bedroom. He found the bed empty and for a split second, he panicked. It was then that he heard water running mingled with a soft voice. He quickly went into the en suite and realized Rose was singing in the shower. Ian stopped dead in his tracks as he entered, and he swallowed hard, averting his eyes even though there was a shower curtain separating them. 

“Um, Rose?”

“Yeah?”

“Uh…th-the child is, uh, crying,” he fumbled, his eyes locked forward.

There was a brief pause before Rose said, “Well, the mother is in the shower and currently getting shampoo in her eyes. So the father needs to take care of her.”

“But, it might need something,” he said in an almost pleading tone. 

Ian suddenly felt a something wet hit his head and he looked down to see a loofa on the tiled floor. 

“Go check on your daughter. And if she needs her nappy changed, then change it. Don’t leave it for me again.”

Realizing that he would not be winning this discussion, he closed the door and went back to the girl’s room. The cries had died down just a tad, but she still demanded attention. Taking in a deep, ragged breath, Ian finally pushed open the door and stepped into her room. Livy was standing in her crib, her little hands clinging to the wooden bars for support. Tears streaked down her soft, round cheeks. On seeing Ian, she immediately reached her arms out for him, causing her to flop down onto the mattress and eliciting a new series of cries. Ian stood there fixed in place, fear and panic gripping him. Livy persisted in reaching out to him, craving her father’s comfort. His feet felt like lead as he moved a few steps in her direction. He stopped just short of her crib.

“Um…everything’s okay. You just need to…just stop crying. Rose will be done soon. She’s in the shower,” he said, grabbing whatever thoughts would come to mind. Livy continued to cry and grab for him. This action didn’t go unnoticed.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “No, you don’t want me. I don’t know what you need. I’ve never even held one of you before. I’m not even supposed to be here. One night I go to bed, and then I wake up an-...God…you have no idea what I’m saying, do you?” he muttered to himself as he ran his hands through his hair.

“Da…”

That syllable instantly knocked the wind out of Ian. His eyes shot over and met hers. 

“Da!” she cried, beckoning him to her.

Every fiber of his being screamed at him to turn and flee, to put as much distance as possible between him and this child. But something within him, something that he could only describe as primal, overtook his members and before Ian realized it, he was cradling Livy close to his chest. Now that she was in familiar arms, Livy’s cries diminished considerably, becoming only intermittent whimpers. He was still uncomfortable with the foreign object in his arms, but the little one didn’t seem to sense it. Her eyes centered on him, and Ian’s did the same with her. In that moment, something transpired. There were no words to describe it, and even if there were, Ian wasn’t sure he could articulate them. Livy was looking at him with such unadulterated love, as if the sun and moon rose with him. Ian stared at her in amazement; how could something so small look at him like that? Panic and wonderment battled for control over his breathing. 

“Looks like ya managed.”

Rose’s unexpected voice startled him, and he whirled around to look at her, swallowing hard as their eyes met. She was leaning against the doorframe, her arms folded across her chest, and grinning at them. She was casually dressed in jeans and a loose jumper; her face was without makeup and her hair was still damp, but Ian couldn’t help but think how beautiful she looked. Suddenly, his mind flashed with images of the last time Rose stood before him, and he was instantly filled with guilt over his hateful behavior. Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly as she searched his face. 

“Y’ok?”

Ian cleared his throat and walked over to her. “I’m fine. Here,” he mumbled, handing over Livy to her as he quickly left the room. 

****

Ian stood under the showerhead and allowed the water to pour over his head. The rushing panic he’d been struggling with all morning seemed to have subsided to a mere trickle. He attempted to process all that had transpired over the past three (?) days. So…from what he could gather, he was living the same day twice, but six years apart. One was his normal, sane life and the other was…well, it was something in another league entirely. He couldn’t fathom what could possibly have brought on this otherworldly experience, or how it was even happening. Multitudes of questions began to form in his already cramped mind, when a sudden voice snapped him back to the “present.”

“Hey, Ian…”

The sound of Rose’s voice made Ian feel like someone had thrown a bucket of cold water on him. He could have sworn he’d locked the door, but her unexpected presence clearly proved otherwise. 

“Is, um, there a reason why y-you’re in here?” he said in a somewhat squeaky tone, gripping the curtain tightly. 

“So Martha just rang and said they can’t come tonight. Guess Mickey’s got the flu or somethin’. But that still leaves Donna, Gramps, and possibly Jack.”

Ian gulped. He didn’t know what response to give, so he went with the most generic. “Um…okay.”

“Don’t sound so excited,” Rose joked. 

“No, it sounds…brilliant. I’m practically bursting with anticipation,” he spouted, somehow managing to not sound completely sarcastic. 

The room suddenly filled with Rose’s melodic giggle, and Ian found himself smiling at the sound. 

“You’re so full of it,” she said and Ian could almost hear the smile in her voice.

As he heard her footsteps retreating, he quickly tried to put together a game plan of sorts. Ian decided that he had to play along with this life the best he could until it went away. He’d done the “freak-out and run” strategy and it had ended in a slap from an irate “mother-in-law,” an ambiguous threat from some ginger, and a burn to his hand. Basically, it was a complete disaster. If he was going to make it through this—whatever _this_ was—he was going to have to try to make the best of things. Of course, this plan didn’t mean that he was going to develop a relationship with Rose, with Livy, with any of them. No… no, that would _not_ be happening. He would keep them all at a comfortable distance, especially Rose. He was going to be kind, but he was not going to pretend that he felt something more for her. He didn’t love her, and it would just be cruel to act otherwise. Besides, this life was an illusion...and it was only a matter of time before it disappeared for good. 

****

The morning and afternoon passed fairly quickly for Ian. He was able to maneuver his way around Rose with relative ease. She had divided her time between picking up the house and taking care of Olivia. At one point, she’d asked him to take care of the dishes. After thirty minutes of clanging and Ian grumbling loudly, she’d come in rolling her eyes at him and said to “get it in gear” or he’d be on nappy duty for a month. That threat resulted in Ian finishing the dishes within ten minutes and without any more complaint. Sometime around 4:00 P.M., Rose took Olivia upstairs for a quick kip, leaving Ian downstairs by himself. His exploration of the downstairs revealed a kitchen, living and dining room, laundry, loo, and library. He was just getting ready to do a thorough look through, when he heard someone enter the house. 

“Hello?” said a voice in the distance. 

It seemed vaguely familiar to Ian, but he couldn’t place it. He cautiously made his way to the voice. He rounded a corner, and ran smack-dab into the ginger. He jumped back and stared at her wide-eyed in surprise.

She quirked an eyebrow as she made an appraisal of him. “Are we playin’ a game that I’m not aware of?”

“Um, no. I was just, just….hi, how are you?” he said, just on the edge of rambling. 

She furrowed her brows together and continued to stare at him, not saying a word. The silence began to get to him and he started to fidget. 

“I’m good. How ‘bout you? Did you decide to go mental and go on another run today?” she asked pointedly, crossing her arms.

“Uh,” he started before clearing his throat, “no. No, I was here today. All day, in fact.”

Donna continued to eye him critically, but then her eyes focused on something behind him and she smiled. Ian turned to see Rose walking towards them. She was pulling her hair back into a ponytail as she walked, causing her jumper to pull taunt against the swell of her belly. Ian felt a peculiar flutter in chest as he watched her, but quickly assigned it to anxiety over the ginger hawk perched next to him. 

Rose sleepily shuffled over to Donna and gave her a quick hug. “You’re here earlier than I thought you’d be.”

Donna gave a quick glare to Ian before she spoke. “Yeah, well, after Ian the Idiot--"

“Aat!” Rose said, swatting Donna’s arm. 

Donna rolled her eyes at Rose’s correction. “Fine,” she huffed, “Ian the Imbecile…”

“Try again.”

“Ian the Ignorant?” Donna offered.

“Oi! I’m right here,” Ian growled.

“I know,” Donna said looking right at him.

Ian glared at her.

“Donna,” Rose drawled out warningly. 

“Okay, okay, okay. Sorry. I just thought after yesterday, I’d come over early and spend time with you…ya know, make sure you were alright.”

Now it was Rose’s turn to roll her eyes. “Of course I’m alright, Donna. So, moving on…where’s Gramps? I thought he was coming tonight,” she asked, looking around.

“He’ll be here soon. One of his old mates came in for the week, so they’ve been down at the pub reminiscing about ‘the glory days.’ He said he’d come ‘round sometime after six. Now,” Donna said as she turned and pointed to Ian, “you come help me unload the car so I can start cooking.”

“So let me see if I understand this; you threaten and insult me, and then you expect me to jump up and help you? Do I have that right?” Ian questioned incredulously. 

“Oh come on, you know how this goes,” Donna said rather unaffectedly. “You whine, I threaten, but underneath it all, you still like me.”

“Don’t you mean _we_ like _each other_?” 

Donna shrugged her shoulders. “Eh…”

“Come off it, you two,” Rose chided good-naturedly, “Ya both like ‘n love each other. Now play nice and unload the car. I’m starving!’

****

An hour later, Donna and Rose were by themselves in the kitchen finishing the preparations on dinner. Ian had excused himself not long after he begrudgingly helped Donna unload the groceries. Donna swiftly and expertly put together the ingredients, and before too long, they were both sitting in the living room, idly chatting. 

As Rose took a sip from her water, she realized that Donna was starting at her intently. 

“What?” she asked, arching her eyebrow. 

Donna’s expression became concerned and she crinkled her brows together. “Are…are you sure you’re okay? Yesterday-..."

“Donna, just leave it!” she groaned, completely exasperated with the subject. “It’s just a rough time of year for ‘im and-..."“

“Rose,” Donna said firmly, cutting her off, “I’m not talking about him. I’m asking if _you_ are okay. You were seriously stressed out, and you know what Martha said abo-..."

“I know,” Rose interjected. “I know, and I’m fine.” She looked up and saw the worry in Donna’s eyes. She reached over and gently squeezed her hand. “I promise.”

The sound of the doorbell silenced any further discussion. Rose stood up despite Donna’s protests and answered the door. Her face instantly lit up at seeing who was on the other side.

“Gramps!” she said and eagerly hugged him. 

“Hello, Sweetheart,” Wilfred Mott greeted her jovially, returning her embrace before following her inside. “Sorry I’m late.”

“No worries,” Rose assured him. “But Gramps, how many times do I have to tell you? Just come in, you don’t have to ring the bell.”

“It’s a hard habit to break, Sweetheart,” he chuckled. “Now…where’s that beautiful little bundle of yours?”

****

Ian was stretched across the sofa in the office reading _A Tale of Two Cities_ when a soft rapt on the open door pulled his attention from the words on the page. He looked up to see Rose standing in the doorway, eyeing him knowingly.

“So when you said you had to work, was that code for ‘I just feel antisocial?’”

“Weelll, not exactly,” he said, hurriedly standing up. “I came upstairs t-to work, like I said. But, then I, um, saw the book. And it’s Dickens…I mean, who can resist Dickens? So I—“

“Ian,” Rose said, interrupting his evolving ramble, “Love, it’s not that big of a deal. I was only messing with you. C’mon. Dinner’s ready.”

Rose held out her hand for him. Pretending as if he hadn’t seen the gesture, Ian quickly shoved his hands into his pockets and headed downstairs, a puzzled and slightly hurt Rose following close behind. 

Ian entered the dining room to see the ginger (Donna, he remembered), and an elderly man with Livy on his lap, attempting to feed her some sort of mashed food. The food smelled wonderful, but there was a familiar scent that he just couldn’t place. He took an empty seat with Rose taking the one next to him. Donna portioned out a plate and handed it to him with a smile, one that he was inclined to label as ‘mischievous.’ Ignoring that misgiving, he took the plate and returned her smile with a tight one of his own. 

“This is delicious, Donna,” Wilf praised, taking another large bite of meat. 

“Thanks, Gramps.”

“What is it?” Ian asked her, forking a small portion of meat.

“Roasted pork tenderloin,” she paused, allowing Ian to begin chewing before she added, “with an Anjou _pear_ glaze.”

Ian stopped mid-chew and locked eyes with her. 

“Told ya you weren’t getting off that easy,” she said as she smirked and took another bite.

Quickly grabbing his napkin, Ian spit the unholy meat out and did his best to scrub his tongue of the taste.

“Donna! Ya didn’t have to be that petty,” Rose said angrily. “For heaven’s sake, Mum already slapped ‘im. Ya didn’t have to try ‘n poison ‘im!"

Ian felt himself gear up for a fierce tirade when a well-known but unwanted voice joined them. 

“Am I too late?”

His eyes instantly honed in on the source—it was Jack. While the others greeted Jack readily, Ian remained silent. His entire body seized with tension and his jaw locked. Jack walked over and slapped him good-naturedly on the back. 

“You scared the crap out of us yesterday. What was all of that about, huh?”

Ian looked from Jack’s hand to the warm smile on his face. He mumbled something unintelligible and excused himself from the table. He hurried up the stairs and into the bedroom, collapsing onto the bed. He closed his eyes and tried to steady himself. Ian didn’t care that he left them all bewildered. He just had to leave. It hurt simply being in his presence. He was a reminder, and Ian wanted nothing more than to forget, to run. The effort it took to keep those experiences at a distance was exhausting, and he suddenly felt so very tired. As sleep began to creep over him, he couldn’t help but wonder if there would ever be a day when he could stop running.


	5. You Can Run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sunday, November 3, 2013
> 
> Let It Go–Cavo

_He’s in front of him, shifting in place, his limbs twitching with the raging emotions and thoughts that have finally seized complete control of his faculties. His hands are occupied. He uses one to clutch the side of his head, grinding his palm into his skull, attempting to muffle the cacophony heard only by him. The other hand…_

_Ian fixates his frantic eyes on that hand. The fluorescents emit their harsh light, somehow enhancing the dull metal being ominously wielded._

_“Don’t… don’t you see?” he screams, desperation and derangement strangling the formerly smooth articulate voice. “Can’t you HEAR them?”_

_Ian glacially moves one foot, then the other… He can help him, can reason with him. It’s not too late._

_“Listen to me,” he says, his tone conveying a calm he does not feel._

_“NO!” he bellows. His eyes flash with animal ferocity, as if a trapper is closing in on him. The free hand now beats madly at his temple, while the occupied hand remains aimed forward even though it's trembling._

_“Please…” Ian’s begging now, desperation and fear strangling him._

_“You…You said they would stop! That you could make them stop! Why haven’t they STOPPED?!” he roars, his cries echoing off the terrified silence. His head tilts ever so slightly, allowing the light to cast notice on his glistening forehead._

_“I’m sorry…” Ian has no other words. He’s failed him and there is no consolation for such a thing._

_The grip tightens, the tremors cease, and he takes aim._

_“NO!”_

Ian sprang upright in a cold sweat, his arms flailing and gasping for air, the remembered gunshot still resonating in his ears. Without realizing, his left hand slid across the bed sheets, as if his instinctively seeking solace. All he found was empty space. His senses started to refocus and he realized he was back in his normal life. 

Several shuddering breaths escaped him as he attempted to reign in the plethora of sensations that always came with these nightmares. As his breathing relaxed and his mind began to clear, Ian finally realized that his hand was extended out to the side. He quickly dismissed it; clearly, he was attempting to brace himself upwards and _that_ was why his _one_ arm was out to the side. Ian looked at the time and saw that it was nearly eight. Though he was exhausted, as was the usual after one of these episodes, he firmly decided against sleep; even if it was possible for him to drift back off, he most certainly did not want to risk the chance of another of those experiences. 

Dragging himself from the bed, Ian trudged to his en suite and stepped into the shower, turning the water on as he did so. The initial blast was frigid and was a shock to his senses. As the water began to heat, almost to scalding, he felt the tension within his body begin to ease. He closed his eyes and was almost instantly struck with a barrage of images, more detailed than the ones in his nightmare. He hated the morning after one of these episodes, because he never just remembered the nightmare—he relived it over and over again. He could feel the fear surge through his veins, the blood pounding in his ears, the smell after the gun fired, even the wild desperation in the man’s eyes. If he thought hard enough, he could feel the blunt force to his body as he fell to his knees, smell the metallic odor of the warm crimson that seeped through his fingers as he…. 

Ian’s body acted of its own accord and he was suddenly bracing himself against the tiled walls, retching almost uncontrollably. He felt as if his stomach was clawing its way out of his body. His hands slid down the wall as his legs gave way and his body fell to the floor. He rested his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, breathing haggardly as he reigned in and buried the emotions he refused to acknowledge he felt. 

****

It was near ten before Ian was dressed and able to function at an acceptable level. He was in denims and an Oxford, which was a rarity for him. For the last five years his life had consisted of work and… well, work. There was no time or use for recreation or relaxation. The clothes felt strange against his skin, but then again everything felt strange in and against his skin today. Ian had heard his mobile alert several times while he was changing, so he walked over to the nightstand and checked his messages. On seeing who they were from, Ian wearily exhaled. 

_Coffee?_

He stared at the simple question, debating his next move. Against his better judgment, he complied, texting back for details. Immediately there was a response. 

_Forster’s around 10:15?_

After sending his response, he pocketed his mobile and grabbed his keys. Forster’s was only a few blocks away; deciding the fresh air would do him some good, he pulled on his coat and headed out.

**** ****

Ian opened the door to Forster’s, expecting to have to idly bide his time before her arrival. But as he stepped in, he immediately noticed her sitting at one of the front tables. Her eyes were instantly on him, and she smiled as she took a sip from her cup. He walked over and took a seat in the free chair opposite her.

“Hello, Sarah Jane,” he said, offering her a small smile.

Her smile widened, highlighting the warmth in her eyes. “It’s good to see you, Ian. It’s been a long time.”

“Guilt trip already?” he asked somewhat defensively, straightening himself up in his chair. 

Even though his manner altered, Sarah Jane’s demeanor remained unaffected. Her smile softened as a trace of sadness entered her eyes. “No guilt trip. Just stating fact—two months is a long time.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Weelll,” he sniffed, “I’ve been busy.” 

He motioned to a passing barista and ordered an Americano. 

“You’re always busy,” she said softly, taking another sip from her cup. 

He furrowed his brow for a fleeting moment. “Thought you said this wasn’t a guilt trip.”

“It’s not a guilt trip, Ian,” she sighed. “This is me being genuinely concerned about you. Jack tells me th-..."

“Oh, I’m sure Jack tells you all sorts of things, none of which I care about.”

The barista placed the drink in front of him, and Ian handed him a few notes. He took an angry swig of his drink, scalding his tongue as he did so, yet not flinching. 

“I know you better than that, Ian,” she countered, scooting closer towards him. “I _know_ you care—about Jack, about me, about _many_ things. You just refuse to acknowledge it anymore.”

“Did you just ask me down here so you could give me some sort of lecture?” he snapped, “Because I’m not interested in hearing it.”

She pressed on her temples, trying to relieve the pressure controlling her emotions were causing. “It’s not… Ian, the three of us… we’re all the family we have left, and—“

Ian’s eyes flashed with restrained anger, and his voice was as cold as ice. “You think I don’t know that?” he spat. “Believe me—I don’t need _you_ to remind me of what we’ve lost!”

Sarah Jane’s eyes started to glisten at his words. “That’s _not_ what I’m trying to do. I just wanted t-..."

Ian stood up abruptly, halting her words. “You know what? I knew this was a mistake,’ he muttered angrily, finishing off the remaining contents of his cup. “Always lovely to see you, Aunt Sarah. Let’s never do this again.” 

With those words, Ian slammed his cup down on the table and stormed out of the café. Sarah Jane stared after him, a few silent tears finally breaking free as he faded out of sight.

****

After leaving Forster’s, Ian just kept walking, cursing himself with each step. He knew better than to meet up with Sarah Jane after last time. They had met for lunch two months ago, after she hounded him relentlessly for two straight weeks. Things had been civil, bordering on enjoyable, when an uninvited guest joined them—Jack. At least Ian thought he was uninvited. It swiftly became apparent that their little family reunion had been orchestrated by their aunt. It lasted all of five minutes, before Ian stood up, knocking over his chair and leaving without ever looking back. After steadfastly ignoring her calls, Sarah Jane came down to his office and practically camped out until he agreed to see her. He’d expected to have her bombard him with various excuses and reasons for why they should meet and so on; but in the end, she’d offered an apology for ambushing him like that in public. They had parted ways on better terms than when he had left, but still more than a little strained. But after today, strained would be a miraculous improvement. 

As he wandered the streets, Ian continued to turn his thoughts over and over, until they became one muddled mass. Deciding enough was enough, he made a hardened attempt to regain control and divert his thoughts to something, anything else. Where they turned was somewhere unexpected—Rose. He couldn’t begin to comprehend why his thoughts continuously turned to her. Then again, there were a lot of things happening to him that he couldn’t comprehend. He’d met her once, just once; and now she was a fixture in some fantastical illusion of his. What was it about her that could possibly be so special? Thinking about her made him feel…different. Good different, bad different? He wasn’t quite sure which one it was honestly. What he was sure of, was that it was bloody maddening. 

His surroundings became increasingly familiar, causing Ian to curse his subconscious. Apparently, it decided that merely _thinking_ of Rose wasn’t enough, deciding that it should direct him to her last known location; and before he realized it, he was nearing _Rendezvous_. He stopped short of the entrance, debating which move to make next. In a surprising show of decisive action, he exhaled exaggeratedly and marched the rest of the distance to the door. Unfortunately for him, once he reached it, he found it to be closed. And once again, he was irritatingly torn between feeling relieved and feeling severely disappointed. Ian was starting to believe he was utterly and certifiably barmy. 

Turning away from the café, he continued his aimless wanderings down the street. Several blocks down, something caught his attention and brought him a complete halt. He was in front of a shop with a large red awning, and a golden wolf embossed on the door. He immediately recognized the design as the one on the cupcake box Rose had given him. Now he had another piece of the puzzle. 

_Bad Wolf Bakery_.

****

When Ian finally ceased his walkabout, it was early evening. He approached the front of his building and the doorman readily opened the door for him. Ian tossed him a sideways glance, verifying that it was indeed a portly older man still manning the entrance, and sighing in relief when he saw him. He entered the empty lift and pressed his floor number. Once inside his flat, he searched for something to eat, even though he didn’t have much of an appetite. Finding an aged banana, he peeled it and then poured himself a glass of Lagavulin, quickly finishing both. He entered his darkened office and walked over to his desk. He switched the lamp on, allowing just enough light to clearly see his intended target. He opened up his bottom drawer, and after moving a few files, found the desired object. Reverently, Ian pulled it from is seclusion and walked over to his sofa, stretching himself across its length. 

Time passed him by as Ian immersed himself in what laid in his hands. Evening faded to night, and his eyelids became heavy. He shifted himself upright and off the sofa, placing the treasure possession back in security. Quickly stripping his daywear, he changed and crawled into bed, wondering what life would throw at him next.


	6. Ask Me No Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Monday, November 4, 2019
> 
> Belong–Cary Brothers

The midmorning sun cast its warm rays through the partly covered window panes and over the figure covered in disheveled sheets. Ian rolled onto his side, further cocooning himself in the tangle of bedcovers. The light shone on his face, and though his eyes were already shut, he squinted and turned over onto his back. Inhaling softly, his body began to rouse and his mind instantly flashed with images of the day prior, jolting his systems. Though he was now awake, Ian’s eyes remained closed. Yesterday had been overwhelming, and he needed to keep some sort of buffer between him and whatever “life” he was about to embark into that day. 

The air was different, not stiff or manufactured. He wasn’t certain about how to exactly to describe it other than it was warm and somehow inviting. That detail alone made it clear what “life” he was living that day, but he still was not ready to visually acknowledge it. He took his hand and raked over the left side of the bed, only seeking absolute confirmation and nothing else, of course. All his fingers touched were cold, empty sheets. Finding out that he was alone, caused his eyes to immediately fly open, scramble out of bed, and search his surroundings. He was alone, but definitely back in the “illusion.” Confusion set in as he saw no sign of Rose. It was obvious she had been there earlier, there were clothes strewn about on her side. His eyes roamed over them, halting abruptly and widening as they caught sight of…“other” garments. Taking a hard swallow, Ian shook his head and exited the bedroom, deciding it was time to get a better idea of what was happening and face the day ahead.

As Ian made his way through the upstairs hall, checking all the rooms only to find them empty, he began to hear faint noises coming from downstairs. They were too low for him to make out clearly, but Ian was definite that Rose was not the source of any of them—he knew her voice well. Ian descended the stairs and made his way to the living room, the noises now clearly animated and increasing in volume the closer he got to the room. Finally in the living room, Ian saw Livy in her playpen, thoroughly engrossed in the animated show on telly. There was no sign of Rose anywhere. Livy began to squeal at the images on the screen, capturing Ian’s attention. He couldn’t help but smile at her obvious enjoyment. Focusing on the source of her happiness, Ian furrowed his brow at the ridiculousness portrayed onscreen. 

_What in the…_

“What are you doin’ here?” 

Startled, Ian shrieked and whirled around to see who was behind him. Rose’s mum was standing there, a dark eyebrow quirked, and a steaming mug in her hand. 

“Only ever heard birds scream like that,” she said, taking a small sip of her drink. 

Ian stiffened and straightened his stance. He quickly began searching through his mind for her name, finding it rather easily. After all, it wasn’t everyday some blonde fury nearly slapped his teeth clean out of his skull.

“What are you doing here, Jackie?”

She furrowed her brows together. “What do ya mean what am I doin’ here? What are _you_ doin’ here?”

“I live here.” __

_Well, sort of…_

“I know that, you plum,” she huffed, rolling her eyes. “You’re s’posed to be at work. If ya were takin’ the day off, ya shoulda told me. Save me a needless trip.”

Ian rubbed the back of his neck as he thought on the fly. Words and reason were his bread and butter, and yet this “life” continuously left him gobsmacked. 

“I’m not taking the day off. I’m just…I decided to go in a little later. So, I take it you’re here to watch Olivia?”

“Of course I am. What’s with you?” Jackie asked, marching up to him. Still holding her mug, she used her free hand to open his eyelids further. “Seriously…You’re not high, are ya? Are you ill? Get hit in the head?”

Ian took a few steps back, swatting her hand away from his face. “No, Jackie. I’m not high or any of that. I’ve just had a couple of off days. People are allowed to have off days, aren’t they?”

Rolling her eyes and muttering, Jackie walked over to one of the sofas. 

“Your daddy is a complete loon, yes he is,” she cooed to Livy with a smile before sitting down. 

“Oi! Don’t teach her that!” Ian yelped, crossing his arms. 

“I’m just statin’ the obvious.”

The images from earlier continued to play on the telly, again catching Ian’s attention.

“Why is she watching an idiotic yellow sponge dance about?”

“She likes it. Makes her laugh.”

“It’s completely asinine. I can actually feel my IQ dropping.”

Jackie rolled her eyes yet again. “Oh stop it. You’re being dramatic. It’s just a silly kids’ show.”

“Yeah, no,” he grabbed the remote from beside Jackie, “There’s no way I’m letting my daughter watch this nonsense.”

He started flipping through the channels when he suddenly realized what he had just said. His what? Ian had just called Olivia _his_ daughter. That realization stopped Ian mid channel surf, and he tossed the remote back to Jackie. 

“Uh…right,” he said as he nervously rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m going to shower and go do…whatever it is I do. So, I’ll leave you to it.” He left the living room, but quickly popped his head back through the doorway. “Remember—no more sponges!”

****

As she opened up the large convection oven door, Rose was instantly hit with an immense wave of heat. She quickly put in the six cake pans and closed the door. Taking several steps back from the oven, Rose puffed her cheeks out and took a long exhale, placing a hand on her lower back as she did so. It wasn’t even noon and she was already exhausted, even with Sally helping her now. Rose shifted her weight back and forth, hoping to alleviate the persistent aching of her swollen feet. The room started to become hazy; Rose grabbed one of the small round baking sheets and started vigorously fanning herself. Her surroundings were just beginning to come back into focus when Sally came into the kitchen. 

Sally opened her mouth to speak, but the words died on her lips as she observed Rose. 

“You alright?” she asked concernedly. 

Rose took a steadying breath before she smiled brightly, though tiredly, at her. “Yeah…just a lil hot s’all.”

“Y’sure?” Sally persisted worriedly; for some reason, she didn’t find Rose’s explanation very convincing. 

Rose couldn’t help but give a faint roll of her eyes. “You try bein’ five months pregnant and waddling around all day next to these things,” she motioned to the ovens. “S’like I’m in a bleedin’ sauna. You’d be fanning y’self, too; believe me,” she insisted. 

“Alright,” Sally smilingly relented. Raising her hand, Sally gave Rose the bakery’s phone. “Martha’s on the line. Says she has a bone to pick with you.”

Snorting, Rose took the phone and Sally walked back to the front to man the counter. Rose put the phone up to her ear and braced herself, unsure if she was going to receive the third degree from “Martha her friend” or “Martha her OB/GYN.”

“Hello?”

 _“Anything you want to tell me about?”_ Martha questioned accusingly.

Rose turned her eyes upward as if in thought. “Hmm… lemme think…” 

She knew that guessing would be useless because at any moment, Martha would cut in with her reason for ringing. And just like clockwork… 

_"We’ve known each other a long, long time; and I know when you're stalling, Rose. I know ‘bout what happened on Saturday."_

"Mar, it was nothin’," Rose sighed into the receiver. "Ian was gone for 'bout two hours and I got worried. That's all."

_"That's not what I heard."_

"What do ya mean that’s not what you heard? What'd ya hear?" Rose asked, bunching her brows together. It irritated her to no end when people blew things out of proportion. She had everything under control and didn't need everyone fussing over her. 

_"Oh, please…I know for a fact that you were running around terrified that something had happened to Ian. You called in the cavalry, and I might add, neglected to include me an' Mickey in that call. And which, by the way, I'm doing a remarkable job of not being insulted by..."_

"Yeah, I can see that," Rose interjected sarcastically. 

Martha continued her rant undeterred. _"But tabling all that for now, you know the reason I’m upset. Rose, we've talked about this before. You can't--"_

Not wanting to hear a lecture from either friend or doctor persona, Rose cut her off. "Martha, I think…yep, Sally needs me. I'll talk to ya later, yeah? Love ya."

Without waiting for a reply, Rose ended the call and walked to the front to put the phone back on the charger. 

“Sally, if Martha calls again, tell her…,” Rose trailed off as she entered the front of the bakery, her eyes nearly popping out of their sockets when she saw who was there waiting. Standing there was Martha—her arms crossed, mobile in hand, eyebrow arched unnaturally high, and looking highly annoyed. 

Rose’s mouth opened and closed several times, but no words would come out. All that she could muster was some sort of hybrid screech/gasp. 

“Like I said, I’ve known you a long time. Did ya really think I didn’t know you’d try ‘n blow this whole thing off?” Martha asked, taking several steps towards Rose. 

The only comeback Rose could manage was a shrug of the shoulders. Martha snorted at that and closed the distance between them.

“Now, Sally’s gonna call in Meg, and the two of ‘em can manage for the rest of the day. And you’re gonna come with me like a good lil’ patient so I can give you a once over.”

Chortling, Rose asked, “And if I don’t, what are ya gonna do? Tell my mum?”

“No,” Martha smirked, “I’ll just tell Donna.”

Rose glared at her and huffed, “I’ll get my coat.”

****

A half hour later, Rose found herself lying on an exam table, gown on, and her legs in stirrups; all the while silently repeating the mantra, “I’m gonna kill Donna.” Rose was absolutely certain that Donna was the true instigator behind this obstetrical kidnapping. There was no doubt whatsoever that she had called Martha, even though Rose had explicitly instructed her to leave it alone. Martha was one of her closest friends and her doctor, so of course she trusted and valued her opinion; but Rose knew she was perfectly fine and this impromptu visit was completely unnecessary. And Rose _hated_ people making a needless fuss over her.

It wasn’t more than a few minutes later before Martha walked in, looking very official in her lab coat, and thoroughly irritating Rose in the process, though there was no real cause for it. As Martha walked over to begin her examination, Rose made it visually clear that she was unhappy with her present circumstances.

“Oi! Don’t give me that look,” Martha said as she put the cold bell of her stethoscope to Rose’s chest. 

Rose gave a low growl but allowed Martha to examine her. Wrapping the cuff around Rose’s arm, Martha took her blood pressure, pursing her lips as she took the reading. 

“150/94.”

“Well, I’m angry… so, what’d ya expect?” Rose justified, shrugging her shoulders. 

“Rose, I’ve seen you angry,” Martha said matter-of-factly. “Like the time Jake ate week old shrimp for ten quid and ended up puking on your new pair of heels—that was angry. Or that time when what’s-her-name made a play for Ian—now _that_ was angry. But this…this is just you annoyed.”

Though she was tempted to argue the point, Rose bit her tongue and held her retort. The truth was that Martha was right—Rose wasn’t angry. Irritated, yes. Put out, of course. But not angry. 

Martha completed her physical examination, finally allowing Rose out of the stirrups so she could change and give a urine sample before she finished with an ultrasound. When Rose finished in the loo, she place the sample on the counter and lied back down on the table. As Martha ran the wand over Rose’s exposed abdomen, the sound of a strong, steady heartbeat filled the room, eliciting a radiant smile from Rose. 

Martha gave a broad smile of her own before saying, “Everything looks good. Ya still want me to keep quiet on whether it’s a boy or girl?”

Rose nodded in affirmation. “Yeah…we’ve been goin’ back and forth ‘bout it. But if and when we do find out, I want ‘im with me. “

Martha cleaned up the gel off of Rose’s abdomen and helped her sit up. There was silence as Martha cleaned the ultrasound probe. The longer the silence became, the guiltier Rose started to feel.

Clearing her throat, Rose broke the silence. “’M sorry that I didn’t tell you ‘bout what happened.”

“It’s no big deal, Rose,” Martha said with a small smile. 

“Even so, I’m still sorry. It wasn’t like I was keepin’ it a secret. I only phoned Jack to see if he’d talked to Ian, but he hadn’t. So I rang Dad; but then Mum overheard, and y’know she can’t keep quiet to save her skin, so she told Donna. Then they all I just showed up. I honestly thought they’d already told you, but when Donna started to ring you up, I stopped her. I knew you’d get all ‘doctor-y’ and…I just didn’t want to make a stupid fuss over nothin’.”

Martha half sat on the exam table next to Rose. “That’s the thing, Rose…it’s not nothin’. I’m not upset that you didn’t phone…well, not really. I’m concerned because you refuse to take this seriously. I mean, have you even told Ian?”

Rose took a deep breath, absentmindedly running a hand through her hair. She shook her head mutely. 

“Why not?” Martha inquired kindly yet firmly. 

“Because he’s got enough to deal with right now, and I don’t want ‘im to worry ‘bout me if he doesn’t have to,” Rose sighed. “And because I _am_ fine,” she said decidedly. 

Martha wearily shook her head. “Rose, y’know I love ya…but you can be infuriatingly bullheaded.”

Rose couldn’t help but laugh. She preferred to think of it as ‘determined.’

“Fine. If you’re gonna be like this, then I want your bum in here _every_ week. If you miss even one appointment, I will personally strap ya to a chair and make sure that you tell Ian everything. Are we clear?” Martha questioned in no uncertain terms. 

Rose nodded. “Crystal.”

****

It was nearly eleven before Ian left the house. After quickly showering, Ian changed into one of the many pinstriped suits hanging in the walk-in closet. It had taken him less than twenty minutes to get ready, but he spent a fair amount of time beforehand searching the office for clues as to _where_ he was supposed to work. Based on the fact that his entire collection of law and case volumes were in this “life’s” office, Ian came to the reasonable conclusion that he was still practicing law. After looking closely over the papers on his desk and through various files on his laptop, Ian was able to establish the “where”—Jones, Matheson, Harkness  & Smith.

Ian could feel his mind stutter as he processed that information. He was quite familiar with that firm, obviously. Jones more than likely still referred to Harriet Jones. Ian had always admired her, admittedly rather begrudgingly in later years. Although if he remembered correctly, she was at times _painfully_ prim and proper. Now Matheson he didn’t know much about; it seemed like he preferred to personify the term “silent partner.” Ian could only remember ever seeing Matheson represent someone twice; so he never made it a priority to learn more about the man. 

Then, of course, there was Jack. Seeing that he had apparently partnered himself with Jack and company left Ian completely floored. What could possibly have possessed him to do such a thing…again? He had given up that practice over five years ago—well, almost twelve if he was counting the years in this life. After what had happened, Ian couldn’t bring himself to go on the ledge again for someone. No… after that, he had made it his mission to pursue the law to the furthest extent possible; never again would he be chancing leniency or betting on emotion. 

Ian was not in love with the idea of having to go into that building and wade his way through murky and painful waters. But what other options were there? He had no idea when this insanity would end; and as long as he had to live this “life,” his hands were painfully tied. With this resigned acknowledgment, Ian departed from the house, leaving the only semblance of security he had in this life. 

****

The lift doors parted on the twelfth floor and Ian took leaden steps into the lobby. It looked so similar to the other one. God… _why_ did it have to be so similar? His chest became tight and his respirations started to quicken. 

_“Why haven’t they STOPPED?!”_

Ian could hear the words as clearly as if they were being uttered directly into his ear. Rebuking himself vehemently, Ian steeled himself. In the years since the shooting, he had learned to compartmentalize and he was not about to let this fantasy get the better of him. Clenching and unclenching his fists, Ian focused on slowing his breathing. As his breaths returned to normal, Ian could feel his mind revert to its trained clarity and ferocity. 

Crossing the lobby floor, Ian was greeted by an occasional passerby, but went unnoticed for the most part; something for which he was very grateful. All he wanted at that moment was to find his office and build some sort of bearings underneath him. Surprisingly, he only made one wrong turn before finding his desired location.

Entering the room with no small amount of trepidation, Ian did his best to absorb his surroundings without becoming too overwhelmed. It was much like his “current” office… Ian rubbed his forehead after that thought. Trying to keep things straight was going to give him a perpetual migraine. With a faint shake of his head, Ian went back to determining the similarities and differences. This office had two small darkly upholstered chairs directly in front of the desk. The usual volumes lined the shelves to his right where a medium sized couch was positioned. There were the customary objects—degrees, a lamp, waste bin, etc. 

Walking over and sitting behind the desk, Ian saw another photo residing next to his computer. He somewhat reverently, picked up the frame and examined the photo. Unlike the one sitting on his home office desk, this photo was of Rose and Olivia. Rose was sitting on the grass with Livy sitting on her lap, both of them beaming. As he held the frame in his hands, Ian couldn’t deny that the sight was entirely perfect. Rose looked… well, she looked quite… beautiful. And then little Olivia was practically radiating pure joy, those dark chocolate eyes sparkling with life. 

An unexpected rapt on the door pulled Ian from his fanciful musings. He turned his eyes upward and swallowed hard when he saw Jack smiling in the doorway. As always, Ian’s first instinct was to put distance between him and his estranged brother. However on remembering Jack’s manner when he showed up at dinner, Ian realized that their relationship in this life was completely restored. In fact, it seemed to mirror what it was once. 

“And here I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show,” Jack teased. He entered the room and casually sat down in one of the chairs facing Ian. 

“Overslept,” Ian replied with more civility than was usual for him. 

Jack’s expression altered just a hair at Ian’s tone, but he quickly reverted back to his charming, unaffected self. “Oh, so is that your new word for snog fests with Rose?” he asked with a playful grin. 

Ian felt his eyes widen as Jack’s words caused images of said “snog fests” to enter his mind, and a warm flush creep up his neck. 

Clearing his throat nervously, he asked curtly, “Did you need something?”

“Well, you’re in a mood,” Jack started. But on seeing Ian’s demeanor become steely, he let off any further perusal of that subject. “Actually, I mainly came to chat, but I guess now’s not the time,” he said, standing and making his way to the door. He stopped suddenly, and turned back around. “Oh, I almost forgot. Mrs. Webber called earlier and said she would be late for your meeting tomorrow. Said something about not being able to find a sitter for Chloe. I wrote it down and left it on Suki’s desk for her to take care of; but I thought I should mention it.”

Ian merely nodded his head in acknowledgement. Jack furrowed his brow, his expression becoming somewhat troubled at his brother’s uncharacteristic but painfully familiar behavior. Deciding that it wasn’t the time to discuss it, Jack exited without another word. Ian let out a small sigh once Jack was gone. He was more than a little proud of himself for keeping his manner in check. Though he was short, he could have been much, much worse. 

He began looking through his computer files for information of this Mrs. Webber that Jack had mentioned. It wasn’t long before he found what he was looking for. It was a custody case involving one child, a Chloe Webber. He gave a precursory look over it, not paying attention to much of what he read. Though he had a plan, Ian still wasn’t sure how to navigate in this “life.” He found himself idly sitting there, reviewing old cases and the various files on his computer; anything to keep him occupied. Occasionally, Suki, his secretary he determined, would come in and check on him. Each time Ian would offer a small smile and deny he needed anything. When he decided he’d spent plenty of time at the office, Ian picked up the information he had on the Webber case, and left.

Twenty minutes later, Ian arrived home. When he opened the door, the smell of what was clearly Italian cuisine wafted towards him. Following the scent, he was greeted by the sight of Rose finishing up dinner. She heard his approach and turned, her face breaking into a brilliant tongue in teeth smile as she saw him. On seeing that smile, Ian felt the air flee from his lungs. Before he could register what was happening, Rose’s arms wrapped around his neck and she captured his lips in an eager kiss. Ian felt himself freeze in astonishment. Though he made no attempt to reciprocate, he felt his mind go hazy as her lips remained in contact with his. At his lack of participation, Rose pulled back and eyed him questioningly. 

“You all right?”

Ian knew his smile was strained, but it was the best he could manage. “I’m always all right.”

That response seemed to strike a chord within Rose, and her expression became unreadable. “Don’t do that,” she said firmly as she crossed her arms. 

Ian furrowed his brow. “Do what?”

“Y’know what,” Rose insisted. “Don’t use that line on me. I know what that means.”

“I don’t know what you mean. ‘I’m all right' simply means I’m all right,” he said, doing his best to make light of things. 

Rose continued to eye him silently, causing Ian to fidget. The look she was giving him was unsettling; it was as if she was seeing straight into him. 

“Something smells wonderful,” he said, eager to divert her attention elsewhere. 

Rose quietly turned back to the oven and began putting the finishing touches on dinner. Ian could tell that she was upset, and he knew it was with him. He didn’t like it, not one bit. But despite that, he didn’t pursue the matter. The more time that passed, the more that fact seemed to anger her. Finally, Rose had had enough. 

She turned to him, her expression tight. “Dinner’s ready. I don’t feel well, so I’m gonna call it a night. Olivia’s already asleep, so you don’t have to worry about putting her to bed.” 

Ian merely nodded. Rose stood there for a moment, seemingly waiting for him to say something. When Ian continued to remain silent, she tightened her jaw and walked away. As she reached the doorway, she paused and turned to face him. 

“Feel free to wake me if you decide to stop being a complete git and talk to me about what’s goin’ on,” she said, not bothering to hide the anger in her voice. With that, she left. 

After fixing himself a plate, Ian leaned against the counter and mechanically ate his food. He warred with himself about what to do. Part of him, a large part if he was being honest, wanted to go after her and make things right. Knowing that Rose was angry with him plagued him. But the smaller part of him won out, and he chose to remain silent. Placing his dish in the sink, Ian trekked quietly through the darkened house and up the stairs. He noiselessly changed into his pajamas and climbed into bed. Rose was turned on her side, away from him. Ian felt himself wanting to pull her to him, but he again pushed such thoughts and feelings aside. Turning on his side, he closed his eyes and waited for sleep to come. 

****

Rose lay there silently, wide awake and hoping for him to make a move to talk to her. However, the silence persisted. Minutes passed by, and she heard Ian begin to snore softly. Rose finally closed her eyes, a few stray tears staining her cheeks as she drifted off to sleep.


	7. Confined Spaces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Monday, November 4, 2013
> 
> Run (ft. Sugarland)--Matt Nathanson

After a fitful night’s sleep, Ian awoke weary and with a profound sense of guilt. Ian knew instantly that this was not the same intrinsic guilt he felt on a daily basis. No, this was plaguing him in a unique way, and he knew the reason for this guilt—Rose. It was definitely disconcerting to feel such a way. He barely knew anything about her, and yet recalling the expression on her face and the emotions brimming in her eyes actually pained him. 

Allowing himself a rare moment of inner honesty, Ian reflected on his past interactions with Rose. The way he had treated her in the restaurant had been cold, accusatory, and bordering on cruel. Then last night, he knew his lack of openness had hurt her. He remembered the way Rose looked at him as he attempted to deflect her inquiry, as if she was staring straight into his soul; and it unsettled him greatly. It was as if she _knew_ him, knew him in ways no one else ever had. The thought was absurd, of course; it just couldn’t be possible for her to have such insight. Ian shook his head, as if this physical action would dissipate such impossible notions.

Reaching his arm over to his bedside table, Ian picked up his mobile and checked the date and time. Once again, it was Monday. But on seeing that it was nearly nine, Ian scrambled out of bed and hurried to shower and dress. The day to day routine of his other “life” might be a mystery to him, but here in this life, Ian knew exactly what to do. And there was another thing of which he was certain—he was incredibly late. 

****

“Well, this is _completely_ _bloody_ _wizard!_ ” Donna growled, a little too loudly than was publicly acceptable. 

Rose bumped her arm, jolting Donna’s focus to her. “Y’know, ya might wanna keep your voice down and _not_ make a scene, what with people and _cops_ around,” she admonished as noticed a few questioning glances from passersby. 

Rose and Donna had spent the last twenty minutes trying to find the right location to pay Donna’s parking citation. They’d initially been directed to the sixth floor; however once there, they were directed back to the first floor. This continued until now they were back on the sixth floor. 

“Does nobody in this _bloody_ building know where anythin’ is?” 

“Well, it’s a government building, so…no, no they don’t,” Rose said wearily.

Donna continued to huff and scowl as they walked down the hallway. “I don’t even understand why I got this stupid thing!” she grumbled, briefly waving the small piece of paper in the air in agitation. She stopped midstride and looked around for any sign that they were in the right location. 

Rose let out a soft sigh. “Let’s just find the office and pay it, alright?” Rose wearily pleaded. 

She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead, attempting to ease the dull ache that had persisted since Saturday. Ever since the confrontation with the unnamed man, Rose had not been herself. After her silent sobs had ended, Rose had done her best to straighten her appearance so as not to arouse any questions from Donna. However, she should have known better than to think she could fool her oldest and closest friend. The moment Rose had walked out of the loo, she had been met by Donna who demanded a complete account of what had transpired, having already coerced the basics out of a fretful Lynda. Rose had initially played off the man’s behavior; but the more Rose mulled over the encounter, the more she felt her anger intensify.

She had simply wanted to cheer him up. Give him something that would perhaps soften his rigid features. It was a purely selfless and sincere gesture. For crying out loud, it was only a flippin’ cupcake! What was the issue? And who did he think he was traipsing into the restaurant, scaring Lynda and then yelling at her? Oh, the thought alone caused a fire to burn within her! 

But then that anger began to wane as she remembered his eyes…his impossibly dark eyes. Not only were they captivating, but they held so much—so much pain, so much turmoil. While that was hurtful to witness, what really pained her was that she could see something buried beneath all of that anguish. And God help her, she wanted to know what it was. 

Rose quit rubbing her forehead and opened her eyes, frowning when she realized that Donna was remaining stationary.

“What are y’doing?” 

The irritated scowl remained fixed on her face as she crossed her arms and said, “I’m not taking one more step until I get the _exact_ location.”

“You’re bein’ ridiculous, Donna,” Rose said, rolling her eyes. 

“No, I’m not! I’m takin’ a stand,” Donna insisted stubbornly. “What I do, I do for the good of all Britain.”

“Nutter,” Rose muttered. She began looking around for someone who could be of real assistance. Her eyes settled on an older security official, and she headed towards him. 

“What are ya doing?” Donna called after her.

Rose waved her off and finally reached the guard. 

“Can I ‘elp ya, miss?” he said, greeting her with a jovial smile. 

She returned his smile with a warm one of her own. “Yes, have you worked here long?”

“Oh yes, miss. Twenty-three years this Thursday.”

Rose’s shoulders relaxed hopefully with his response. “Great. My friend over there, she’s trying to pay a parking fine. We’ve been everywhere and still can’t seem to find the right place. Can ya help us out?”

“Of course,” he replied. “It’s a little tricky. You just go to the fourth floor a—“

“Not so fast,” Donna said, suddenly appearing at Rose’s side. “No more directions. This time I want an escort.”

The elderly guard regarded her for a moment, taking in her agitated manner with quiet understanding. 

“Follow me then,” he said, his tone remaining kind despite Donna’s gruffness. 

Rose gave the man an apologetic, yet appreciative smile. Out of the corner of her eye, Rose spotted a loo. Deciding she needed a moment to herself, she turned to Donna.

“Go ahead. I’m just gonna pop into the loo for a mo’ and I’ll met ya down there. Fourth floor, ya said?” she verified with the guard.

He nodded in affirmation and then walked towards the stairs with Donna, who thankfully was already beginning to appear in a better mood. Rose entered the loo and walked over to the sink, splashing a handful of cool water to her face. Afterwards, she looked up and into the mirror, giving her reflection a once over. The water had, naturally, messed with her makeup. Rose rummaged through her purse for her compact and mascara. She quickly fixed her face, adding a little extra powder to the faint circles the lack of sleep had so graciously given her. She finished off with a touch of lippy and exited the loo, anxious to find Donna and finally leave this hellish place. As Rose stepped into the almost vacant hallway, she saw something that immediately halted her steps. 

It was _him_. 

She couldn’t believe it. There he was, right in front of her, waiting for the lift. She took a few steps towards him; and then all of a sudden, his head turned in her direction and their eyes met. In that instant, Rose felt something vaguely similar to an electrical shock go through her, causing her to imperceptibly twitch. His eyes visibly widened as they remained locked with hers. Neither one of them made a move; they simply remained frozen in place, staring at each other. The sudden ding of the lift broke the stalemate, and like a shot, he dashed into the lift.

 _Oh no ya don’t!_ Rose thought and ran after him, the doors closing the instant she entered the lift. 

She found him beside the control panel, his thumb still pressed firmly against the _Close Door_ button. On seeing that, Rose glared at him, causing him to slightly shift. It suddenly occurred to her that they were alone, completely alone; and very, very much in each other’s personal space. Rose swallowed hard at that realization. 

He snapped out of his daze and pressed one of the floor selections. Of its own volition, her hand shot forward, and she pressed the _Stop Lift_ button, jolting them to a halt. All the mess of emotions she’d been feeling for the past three days came rushing at her, and now she was determined to get some things off her chest. 

“Who do ya think you are?” Rose said sharply as she looked him squarely in the eyes.

His head jerked back a tad. “Excuse me?” he replied, a slight tremor in his voice. 

Rose firmed her stance before continuing. “Ya heard me. Just who do y’think you are coming into my friend’s place, treatin’ Lynda the way ya did and then spewing your venom at me?”

Something almost indiscernible flashed in his eyes, something akin to regret, but was gone in an instant. He tightened his jaw and countered, “And who do you think _you_ are cornering me in here?” 

He pressed the button to resume the lift, but Rose quickly stopped them again, jolting them once more. 

“I’m someone who doesn’t let callous gits get away with pullin’ stupid crap like that!” she growled. 

“As mature and noble as that it is,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “some of us have important things to do. So, if you don’t mind…” 

He trailed off and started the lift again. Rose was fuming, her eyes ablaze with rage. She slammed her hand onto the button and the lift jerked to a halt. He returned her glare with a fierce look of his own, and pressed the button. Rose immediately halted them again. 

“Stop it!” he snapped, and pounded on the button.

“You stop it,” she bit back and slammed the button again. “We’re not leavin’ here till you apologize.”

“Stop being a child!”

“Stop being a wanker!”

They both reached for the button, hitting it at the same time. The lift dropped suddenly, and then jerked to a complete stop, causing Rose to stumble forward and into Ian whose arms instantly moved to steady her. At the unexpected contact, their eyes slowly met, allowing something foreign and indescribable to pass between them. Realizing they were in a somewhat intimate position, they hurriedly pulled apart and diverted their eyes in opposite directions, Rose finding the floor intriguing while he seemed to be fascinated with the hand railing.

He attempted to start the lift again, but it would no longer budge. A look of panic came over him, and he began frantically pressing the button. He finally slammed his fist against it in frustration. 

“Well that’s just _bloody brilliant!_ ” he shouted, running an angry hand through his hair and beginning to pace. “Are you happy now?”

Rose’s eyes were practically sparking. “Me?” she questioned angrily.

“Yes, _you_ ,” he snapped. “We’re stuck in this bloody lift all because _you_ couldn’t act like an adult and get over yourself.”

She rounded on him, the ferocity in her eyes causing him to step back. “Get over myself? You insufferable prat!” she spat, “All ya had to do was apologize, but you’re too caught up on your own self-importance to think of others. You were rude, arrogant, irrational, and a complete and utter wanker!” She paused for a millisecond to take a breath, before charging forward. “All I did was give ya a bloody cupcake. _A cupcake!_ And you flip out like a bleedin’ nutter and accuse me of…I don’t know what, but it sounded like ya thought I drugged you! _Seriously?_ Just how thick is your skull? Is it so hard to believe that someone just wanted to do somethin’ nice for you? Because that’s all it was… I. WAS. BEING. NICE!” she hollered, panting ever so slightly as she tried to recover from her tirade. 

He stood there staring at her, his mouth slightly agape. Rose wasn’t sure how long they remained that way, but as his dark chocolate orbs continued to bore into her, she felt her insides begin to flutter at an alarming rate. She was suddenly very glad that she had touched up her makeup. That spontaneous thought elicited a heated blush to creep up her neck, and she hastily turned her gaze from him. 

Rose pulled out her mobile from its customary place in her back pocket and began fiddling with it nervously, anything to divert her thoughts from the man next to her. Remembering they were stuck, she checked her signal status. Though there was only one bar, she attempted to call Donna. Unfortunately, the call would not connect. She tried texting, but it wouldn’t got through, either. Rose tried phoning three more times before giving a low growl in frustration. She walked to the back wall and slid down to the floor, her mobile still in hand. He continued to lean against the left wall, his head now down as if in thought. 

The tension in the air was palpable and both of them continued to avoid eye contact. After a few minutes, Rose caught something out of the side of her eye, and turned to see him now sitting. He was practically flush with the wall, careful to keep at a distance. He pulled out his mobile as well, and after a quick glance, gave a frustrated sigh. 

“S-so you…you can’t get a signal either?” Rose asked awkwardly, continuing to avoid eye contact. 

“Nope,” he said, popping his “p” as did so. 

The corner of Rose’s mouth quirked upward at the sound. She sighed resignedly. “So…”

“So…”

“How long do ya think we’ll be in here?” 

He shrugged his shoulders. “No idea. I’d venture to guess a couple of hours.”

“Wonderful,” she groaned, thumping her head softly against the wall. 

A beat passed.

He cleared his throat nervously. “So…”

When he didn’t speak further, Rose finally looked his way. “So...?” she prodded.

“The, um…what you said…about me and my, uh, behavior…weelll, it…,” he trailed off again. 

She arched her brow, questioning yet hopeful. “It what?” 

“It may not have been entirely off base. In fact, it might have been…completely accurate,” he said quietly.

Once again, the corners of her mouth quirked upward in the slightest of smiles. “Is that your way of apologizing?” she asked, her voice lacking its previous piercing nature.

“I guess so,” he replied sheepishly, tugging on his ear lobe. His gaze flickered over and met hers.

She chuckled softly. “A bit rubbish at it, aren’t ya?”

A small grin emerged, and he turned his eyes away as he realized its appearance. “Haven’t really had much experience with them. Is it…is it not good enough?” he asked, worry present in his voice. 

Rose allowed a wider smile to spread across face. “I’ll take it.”

Silence descended once again, although this time it was less strained. 

He spoke again. “So…”

Rose giggled harder. “Oh, we’re not gonna keep doing that the whole time are we?”

Another grin made its way up his cheek. “Fine… let me try it again. So Rose, wha--”

“You remembered my name?” she interrupted, her eyes wide with surprise. 

“Weell,” he drawled, tugging again on his ear, “yes…I mean it’s not a hugely popular name. At least I don’t know many. I think I’ve only met two ‘Roses’ in my life, and one was my housekeeper. Actually…now that I think of it, her name wasn’t really ‘Rose’…it was something like Rosa or Rosita, not quite sure anymore. Either way, it’s…it’s not a forgettable name.”

He glanced over at her again. Rose was highly amused with his nervous rambling, and smiled brightly at him. She saw the tips of his ears pink and her smile broadened, causing him to look away and around the lift.

“What’s yours?” 

His eyes flickered back to her. “Sorry?”

“Your name. S’not really fair for you to hold out when you already know mine.”

“It’s Ian,” he replied, a stronger smile appearing on his features. 

“Nice to meet you, Ian,” Rose said, extending her hand. 

Ian looked from her to the hand, before hesitantly taking it. Rose was taken aback by the feel of his hand in hers—the strength in it, the slightly cooler temperature, and the way her own hand fit perfectly within his grasp. She felt her heart begin to flutter rapidly, and she ended the handshake, turning her eyes forward nervously. 

“You were tryin’ to ask me a question earlier,” Rose prompted. 

“I-I…,” Ian cleared his throat, attempting to hide the tremor in his voice, “I was just asking what brought you down here.”

“My friend, Donna, had to take care of a fine. I just came along for the ride.”

Ian nodded in acknowledgement. 

Rose turned to look at him. “What about you?”

“Me? I work here.”

“Oh yeah? What do ya do?”

“I’m a prosecutor.”

“Ya any good?” Rose asked with a smile on her lips. 

Ian sat up straight. “Oh, I’m better than good,” he answered proudly, a slight teasing undertone to his voice 

Rose’s laugh sounded throughout the lift. “Well with modesty like that, you must be,” she teased, continuing to giggle.

A soft chuckle came from Ian, and Rose couldn’t help but take immense pleasure in the sound. Her smile broadened and slight bit of pink poked through her teeth. She saw his eyes flicker to her mouth for one infinitesimal moment before quickly diverting away. Rose felt her cheeks flush, and she turned her head away, nervously tucking her hair behind her ear. 

“Sorry we're stuck in here…weelll, that you're stuck with me,” Ian said, breaking the silence. 

“Eh,” Rose shrugged her shoulders, “Stuck with you…s’not so bad.”

He timidly turned his head to look at her. “Really?” he questioned uncertainly.

“Yeah,” Rose affirmed, grinning at him. “And guess what?” she said, scooting closer to him. 

Ian swallowed hard. “Wh-what?”

She bumped his arm playfully with her elbow. “You just said ‘sorry.’”

“Yeah,” he chuckled awkwardly. “I guess I did.”

“Was it as painful as ya thought it’d be?” Rose teased, this time knowingly poking her tongue through her teeth.

A slow smile crept onto his face. “I think I’ll live.”

Their eyes locked again, and Rose felt the air in her lungs catch. Neither of them moved; neither of them spoke. Rose felt a charge in the air and couldn’t fathom what it was or why it was there. All she knew was that she found it exhilarating and didn’t want it to end. 

The lights flickered and the lift began to move again. With the moment shattered, Rose and Ian broke their gazes. Disappointed, Rose scooted back to her original spot just as the doors parted. Standing there were a couple of maintenance workers, the guard from earlier, and…

“You scared the _bloody_ crap outta me!” Donna screeched, rushing forward and pulling Rose up and onto her feet, wrapping her in a tight hug.

“Sorry,” came Rose’s muffled reply.

Donna pulled back, her eyes narrowed but clearly worried. Finally realizing that there was another person in the lift, she turned and her eyes blazed when she saw Ian. 

Ian remained seated, fearful to make any sudden movements. 

Donna attempted to move towards him, but Rose kept her in place. “C’mon, Donna,” she said, steering her towards the hallway. “After all that’s happened this morning, ya at least owe me some chips.”

With one more heated glance at Ian, Donna exited the lift. Rose looked over her shoulder and smiled at Ian, before finally walking out of sight. 

Ian suddenly remembered he was still sitting on the lift floor. As he began to stand, he noticed a pink iPhone where Rose had been sitting. He quickly reached over, picked it up, and scrambled to his feet. He barged through and into the hallway, looking around for Rose. There was no sign of her anywhere. Ian couldn’t help the feeling of disappointment that came over him upon realizing that. It was then that Ian remembered the name of the shop he passed on Sunday—Bad Wolf Bakery.

Of course, if she wasn’t there, he could always try _Rendezvous._ He could go there and give the phone back to her; he should go back. But he needed a little more time to prepare himself for another encounter with her. With that decided, Ian pocketed the phone. He was fairly certain he’d be back in the other “life” tomorrow, a thought which caused another smile to tug at his lips as he went about the rest of his day. 


	8. When We Collide, We Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tuesday, November 5, 2019
> 
> Collide--Dishwalla (Title also comes from this song)

On Tuesday morning, Ian awoke to the annoyingly incessant sound of his alarm. Still in a half-sleep haze, he reached his arm over and began blindly searching for his mobile, eager for the return of silence. After a brief moment, Ian’s fingers wrapped around the device and he quickly silenced the alarm before turning onto his other side. Rose must have turned in her sleep, because now he found himself looking directly at her face. The sleep suddenly dissipated from his eyes, and Ian found himself taking in her slumbering figure. The early morning light peeked through the seams in the curtains, highlighting her delicate features. Rose inhaled deeply, allowing a few strands of blonde hair to fall across the apple of her cheek. The sun’s rays illuminated her long hair that was sprawled across her shoulders, almost creating a glow around her. Ian found the air in his lungs still as he made a study of her. There was no denying it—Rose was breathtaking. 

Ian felt his normally stoic features meld into a small yet warm smile. Surprisingly, he allowed it to remain. Memories of their, dare he say, flirtatious interaction filled his mind, causing the smile to widen. However, they were unceremoniously thrust aside as another set of images took their place. Images of Rose breaking her kiss, her eyes pained and longing for answers. His deflection of her questions. The soul piercing intensity of her gaze. Her walking away from him and up to their bedroom. As he’d laid his head against the pillow that night, Ian had been almost certain he could feel her. It wasn’t that he didn’t know she was lying next to him; this was different. He could _feel_ her—feel her lying there awake, waiting, almost as if she was reaching out for him. As the foreign, and nearly terrifying, feeling had continued to settle into his being, Ian had forced it aside and closed his eyes, begging sleep to take him. 

But now, looking at her in the early morning light, he found himself wanting that moment to never cease. That realization took Ian off guard, but he didn’t find it unpleasant in the slightest. That in itself was another startling realization; he’d most certainly never felt that way before. Rose suddenly moved her body forward, unconsciously extending her hand toward him. Ian looked at the hand that was a hair away from touching his own. A multitude of thoughts washed over him at that moment as he continued to focus on her hand. Slowly, and of its own volition, his hand emerged from under the covers and gently covered hers, his thumb tracing small circles over her soft skin. A soft sigh escaped from Rose and the tiniest of smiles tugged at the corners of her mouth. Ian found himself mirroring her expression; that is, until Rose began to stir. At that action, Ian disengaged his hand from hers, fearful of Rose’s reaction upon seeing his gesture. No matter what was warring within him, no matter how hard an exterior he tried to maintain, the thought of leading Rose on pained Ian to no end. 

Ian hastily pulled himself away from her and off the bed. Quickly grabbing the dressing gown that was draped over the chair arm, Ian scurried into the en suite, closing the door just as Rose opened her eyes. Rose blinked a few successive times, adjusting her eyes to the sunlight. Upon hearing the en suite door close, she propped herself on her elbow and took in her surroundings, her eyes scanning the room before landing on the spot beside her. Seeing it was vacant of her husband, Rose felt a pull on her heart. She hated it when they went to bed upset with each other. Of course they had rows just like every other couple, but they made it a priority to not let things fester. After all, their past events together had made it clear how painful that made circumstances. So those infrequent times that they allowed things to remain unresolved made her heartsick. 

Rose shook herself free of her self-commiserating. There was no sense in dwelling on it; all that mattered was fixing it. Ian’s behavior had been unpredictable, irrational, and his former mannerisms were peeking through. It was true that this time of year was difficult for him, but Rose had not seen him this closed off from her; not since the beginning. Something was clearly going on, and she was going to get to the bottom of it. Pulling back the covers, she slid her legs off the side bed and stood stretching, attempting to ease the tension from her mind and body. She felt the baby stir within her and her hand instantly flew to her stomach, a smile lighting up her face and all anxieties leaving her for that brief moment as she focused on the life within her; a life that was evidence of the all-encompassing love she and Ian had for each other. 

“Good mornin’ to you, too,” Rose said, looking down at her stomach and rubbing it affectionately. 

The baby then began to increase its movements, kicking just a tad rough and causing Rose to faintly jerk. 

“Well, I coulda done without that,” she said, putting a hand on the small of her back and sighing. 

Rubbing the remaining sleep from her eyes, Rose left the bedroom and walked the hall to Livy’s room. As she approached the door, a wave of dizziness washed over her, and Rose put her hand on the wall, bracing herself. Her other hand protectively rushed to her stomach. She closed her eyes and took several long steadying breaths. 

_C’mon, get it together… This’ll pass, this’ll pass…_

And it did. Her head began to clear and her bearings came back to her. Letting out another breath, this time of relief, Rose opened the door and poked her head into the room. Olivia was sleeping peacefully in her crib, not even stirring. A soft smile played on Rose’s lips, and she gently closed the door. She made her way down the stairs and into the kitchen, putting on the kettle. After a minute or two, the kettle began to whistle, and she went about preparing her tea. Due to her pregnancy, Rose had temporarily given up caffeine. It had been brutal when she’d given it up the first time while pregnant with Olivia, but fortunately, this time around was not as difficult; something for which her family and friends were very grateful, especially since they’d been the recipients of her tetchy morning moods. 

Her tea finally ready, Rose walked into the living room and curled up on the sofa, flipping on the telly as she did so. She aimlessly changed the channels, searching for nothing in particular, simply desiring something to serve as a distraction from her current worries. Rose was unsure how much time had passed before she heard footsteps on the stairs. Muting the telly, she waited to hear Ian’s voice or have him come find her. When he did neither, Rose stood up and walked towards the foyer. But before she could reach him, she heard the front door open and close. He’d left without saying goodbye. Rose felt her throat tighten as she reigned in her emotions. It was true she was hurting, but she would not let that or her increasing anger and frustration distort her focus or take control.

Climbing the stairs, Rose entered their bedroom, and after grabbing some clothes, she went into the en suite to get ready for the day. By the time she was showered and dressed, Livy was awake and demanding attention. Rose quickly changed and dressed the little one, before going downstairs to prepare breakfast for the both of them. After both were fed and full, Rose grabbed their jackets and bundled both of them up, before locking up the house and getting into the car. 

****

About fifteen minutes later, Rose parked the car in front of Vitex Systems. She unstrapped Olivia from her car seat, and grabbing the diaper bag, entered the building. Giving a warm smile and quick greeting to the receptionist, Rose passed the various offices before reaching her destination, a corner executive office. The man at the desk was clearly engrossed in the images on the screen in front of him, and did not hear her approach.

Rose rapped her knuckles against the opened door. “Hey, Dad.”

Pete looked up from his computer and smiled brightly at her. “Sweetheart!” he said, rising and walking over to her. Livy let out a series of excited squeals and reached her arms out to her grandfather. He eagerly took his granddaughter into his arms, before placing a quick kiss to Rose’s cheek. “What brings you here, love?”

Rose shrugged her shoulders and put on a straight face. “Didn’t have anythin’ planned today. Just thought it’d be nice to come by an’ see ya,” she finished with a small smile. 

Pete made an appraisal of his daughter. He could tell something was troubling her, and that this visit wasn’t purely a social call. Pete’s protective instincts came to the forefront and he pulled his daughter in close. Rose may have been all grown up, but she would always be his little girl; and right now, his little girl was hurting. 

Pete looked down at her, his warm eyes meeting her troubled ones. “What’s going on, Rose? Somethin’s botherin’ you.”

Removing herself from his hold, Rose walked over to the small sofa and sat down. She attempted to rest her elbows on her knees, but her growing belly prevented the gesture. Instead, she leaned back onto the sofa and released a tired sigh, running a hand through her hair. At her continued silence, Pete put Olivia on the floor and placed a few of hers and Tony’s toys in front of her. With Livy sufficiently occupied, Pete joined Rose on the sofa. He put his arm around her, and she leaned into him, placing her head on his shoulder. 

“C’mon, Rose. Tell me what’s bothering you, sweetheart.”

Rose could feel tears stinging her eyes, demanding release. She sniffed and wiped at her eyes; she was not going to lose it. 

_Bloody hormones…_

“S’just… Somethin’s goin’ on with Ian, and I-I…I don’t know what it is,” she answered, the last few words said with frustration. 

Pete took a breath and turned his gaze forward in thought. When he’d first met Ian six years ago, Pete had found him somewhat cold and standoffish. But Pete hadn’t been blind; he could tell there was something between his daughter and Ian. Something more than just attraction. It took several meetings before Pete had even begun to think the man could be in the vicinity of acceptable for his daughter. But the more he learned about Ian, about his past, the more he’d begun to admire and accept the man. It took some time, but they’d become quite close. And ever since that Saturday morning, Pete knew that something was different about his son-in-law. Now, hearing Rose’s words and seeing her anxiety was confirmation of the fact. 

Squeezing her a little tighter towards him, Pete turned his focus back to her. “Go on,” he encouraged gently. 

Rose sniffed again. “He’s just…just not himself. I can’t figure it. It’s like…it’s like before, when we first started out…He’s not lettin’ me in.”

Pete faintly nodded his head as he took in Rose’s words. He was very tempted to prod further, but he respected the fact that this was between Rose and Ian. He wasn’t going to push her for more than she was willing to divulge. Pete was formulating his next words when Rose spoke again.

“It just hurts, Daddy,” she whispered, almost childlike. She buried herself further into him, wishing, for just a moment, that she was a little girl once again and that her daddy would make it all better. But Rose wasn’t a child anymore, and she knew that this would require action on her part. 

Pete placed a kiss to her crown. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I really am... Y’want me to rough ‘im up? I know some people,” he ended teasingly. 

A soft chuckle came from Rose, and she shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe…” Rose turned her head upward, as if in thought, before shaking her head. “Nah, he’s too pretty to do that; plus, ya can tell I kinda fancy ‘im,” she said, pointing to her to her stomach and grinning up at Pete. 

Pete snorted and returned her smile. He was pleased to see her playful manner begin to return, but Pete knew that until she and Ian cleared things up, it would not last. “In all seriousness though, I am sorry that you’re hurting. Have you talked to him? It’s not like you two to be like this.”

Rose sat up and ran both of her hands over her head, allowing them to rest around her neck. “I tried last night. He just acted like I was…,” she trailed off. 

_Like I was a stranger…_

Pete looked at her expectantly. She decided against finishing that thought, and continued, “Anyway, I tried. But nothin’…He’s just bein’ a complete _tosser_ and I don’t know whether to cry, snog ‘im, or beat the livin’ daylights outta ‘im,” she finished with a slight growl. 

Pete chuckled as the fiery nature of his daughter came out. Rose focused her eyes forward but not at anything specific. Livy began to squeal with delight as she continued to play; causing Rose’s eyes to divert to her little girl and a brilliant smile to overtake her face. Livy turned and started crawling to her mother, attempting to drag the toy with her. It was a decision that impeded her greatly. When she finally reached her mother, Rose picked up Livy and began bouncing her on her knee. 

Before Rose or Pete could continue their discussion, the sound of two male voices arguing caught their attention. As the voices grew closer, Rose and Pete were able to make out their owners—Jake and Mickey.

“It’s not my fault y’don’t know how wire a bleedin’ panel,” Mickey grumbled.

“Oi! It’s not _me._ You’re the bloody programmer on this one. It’s _your_ code that’s muckin’ up the whole system. Never happens when I do it,” he retorted, before mumbling, “tin dog,” under his breath. 

Mickey heard him and glared daggers at Jake. “Hedgehog.”

“Least I’ve got hair.”

The two of them entered Pete’s office as they continued snapping at each other. Upon seeing Rose and Livy, they paused their argument long enough to greet her. 

Sensing an opportunity, Rose smirked and cocked an eyebrow. “You two boys want a juice box? Seems to calm Livy down when she’s havin’ a tantrum.”

Both men furrowed their brows at her statement, with Mickey being the first to yelp, “Oi!” Jake just rolled his eyes and sarcastically said, “Hilarious.”

“What’s going on, you two?” Pete asked. His voice was now more authoritative as he attempted to reign in his bickering employees. 

Jake jumped in first. “The bloke from the rail yard rang and said the wastewater plant is down. Says it’s all shutting on and off at random intervals. Mickey here thinks it’s the way I wired the panel. He’s too thick to think it might be his friggin’ code that’s the problem.”

“Oh yeah? Well, when _I_ wire the panels, we never have this issue.”

“That’s ‘cause _I’m_ writing the code,” Jake countered. 

“All right. Enough, you two!” Pete said, raising his voice. Both men came to attention and ended their bickering.

Pete stood and crossed his arms. “Have either of you gone down to the plant and actually done a diagnostic?”

Both Jake and Mickey fidgeted under Pete’s direct gaze. Unlike before, neither of them wanted to be the first to speak. 

Finally, Mickey spoke up. “Not yet, Boss. We were…uh, troubleshootin’ from here which sorta led to our, uh, discussion.”

Pete continued to eye his two lead engineers. “Well, how about instead of bickering like a couple of teenage girls, you two actually go down there and figure out the _actual_ problem?”

Both men bristled at the “teenage girl” remark, but they knew that Pete had a valid point. Bickering had never done them any good. The two of them were the best engineers at Vitex, and basically part of the Tyler family. As such, Pete knew their talents and expected the best out of them. 

“Yes’sir,” Jake replied with a nod as he and Mickey turned to leave.

“Who’d ya talk to over there?” Mickey asked Jake.

“Jim Carrigan.”

“Jim’s an idiot,” Mickey scoffed and rolled his eyes. “ _He’s_ probably the one that screwed it all up. I once had to show him where the _Enter_ key was.”

The two of them walked off, now blaming poor Jim for whatever unknown error was occurring, and leaving the original three alone again. Rose let out a tired breath and once again ran her hand through her hair, pulling it out of her face. She handed Olivia to Pete and slid to the floor and began picking up the various toys and putting them into the diaper bag. Standing up and sliding the strap onto her shoulder, Rose then reached out her hands to take Olivia. Pete gave the little one a peck on the forehead before handing her back to Rose. Balancing Olivia on her hip, Rose gave her dad a quick hug. When they pulled away, Pete placed a quick kiss to her forehead and then smiled at her. 

“It’ll be alright, love. That man is ridiculously in love with you. If he’s acting strange, there must be a good reason for it. 

“Thanks, Dad. Love ya.” Giving him another quick hug, she looked down at her little girl and said, “Say bye to Granddad, Livy.” Livy looked in Pete's direction and waved her little hand.

Pete smiled brightly at them both. “Bye, loves.”

****

Ian was sitting behind his desk, glasses on, and examining the Webber file. Mrs. Webber was due to arrive soon and he was doing his best to familiarize himself with the case beforehand. What he saw did not overly impress him. Trish Webber, formerly married to Nathan Webber. One child, Chloe. Allegations of neglect by Nathan against Trish, along with allegations of drug abuse. Those claims seemed to be validated by a hospital drug test from an A&E visit after a car accident. Though he’d only gone through one file, he stopped his perusal. After reading those facts, Ian had no idea what had possessed “him” to take this case. Based on what he’d read, Trish Webber was not fit to keep Chloe; at least, not permanently.

His thoughts were interrupted by Suki’s knock at his door. 

“Ms. Webber’s here, Mr. Smith. She’s waiting in the conference room. Mr. Harkness is there, as well.”

Ian felt a knot in his stomach at the mention of Jack, but he forced himself to ignore it. Ian had already resolved to do his best in this life, and he needed to stick to his decision. Pushing back from his desk, Ian gathered the files on his desk and made his way to the conference room. 

As he approached the room, he saw a young girl waiting in one of the chairs outside the room, quietly sketching. She looked up at his approach. Ian offered her a small smile, but she made no effort to reciprocate, instead turning her focus back to her drawing. Something about the young girl struck him as peculiar, though he couldn’t pinpoint what it was exactly. Brushing it off, Ian entered the room. Ms. Webber and Jack were sitting next to each other at the end of the table closest to him. Both turned their attention to him, and Ian joined them at the table. He leaned forward and placed his folded hands on the table. Taking a deep breath, Ian decided to just tell it like it was—no sense in not being straight with her. 

“Ms. Webber, I’ve reviewed your case again and in all honesty, I think the best thing for you is to settle, allowing your ex-husband to have primary custody, with arranged visitation and alternating weekends. I think given your history, this is the most favorable arrangement you’ll be able to obtain.”

Both Ms. Webber and Jack stared at him—shock and fear written all over her face, while Jack stared at him incredulously, his jaw going slack. Ms. Webber opened and closed her mouth several times before words were able to come forth. 

“Excuse me? I don’t understand. After everythin’ Nate’s done. After…,” she trailed off and turned her worried gaze from Ian to Jack, silently pleading for an explanation. 

Jack leaned forward and put his hand over Ms. Webber’s trembling one. “Trish, calm down. It’s gonna be alright. Why don’t you step out for a minute and give Ian and me a minu—“

“That won’t be necessary, Ms. Webber,” Ian interjected. “I’m confident that this is the best outcome, what with your past history with drugs an—“

“ _Drugs?_ There was never any drugs!” Trish insisted. 

Ian eyed her skeptically. “The drug screen showed opioids and benzodiazepines. Last time I checked, th—“

Trish interrupted once again. “Y’know why those showed up! We already discussed this. They were...” Trish’s breathing started to become rapid and tears shown in her eyes. “I don’t understand why you’re sayin’ these things. Y’know that Chloe can’t end up with Nate! H-he…,” she attempted to continue but was too overcome with emotion to finish. Her fear and anxiety were palpable and she buried her face in her hands. 

Jack shot Ian a heated look, before raising Trish to her feet. “Trish, I promise you we’ll get this sorted out. We will _not_ let Nate gain custody of Chloe,” he insisted, no trace of uncertainty in his voice. 

Trish mutely nodded her head. She looked back at Ian, her face showing both confusion and what almost registered to him as betrayal. Jack led her out and away from the conference room with Chloe closely following them. No longer seeing the need to remain sitting by himself, Ian gathered his documents and went back to his office. As Ian closed the door behind him, he couldn’t help the feeling that he had missed something. Before Ian could even reach his desk chair, Jack threw open the door and stormed in, practically slamming it behind him. Ian whirled around and came face to face with an irate Jack. 

“Just what in God’s name was that about?!” Jack demanded angrily. 

Ian could only recall a few times that he’d seen Jack this incensed, and it caught him properly off guard. 

“What are you talking about?” he questioned, keeping his voice calm and guarded. 

Jack’s blue eyes bore intensely into his brother. “I’m talking about all that complete crap you just spouted off to Trish Webber! What could _possibly_ have possessed you to go into that room and say such things? Was your brain even in your skull when you said all of that? I mean seriously, Ian! After all that those two have been through, you have the _audacity_ to say what you did?!”

Ian quickly tapped into his reserved anger and turned it towards Jack. “I said what the facts were, Jack. What would you have me say? Tell her that everything would be fine and dandy? That she had nothing to worry about? Because that’s not the case, Jack. With her past, she’s not going to have much of a shot.”

“Her past?” Jack asked incredulously. “Just what ‘past’ are you referring to? You can’t seriously be talking about that drug test?!”

“You think a young child should stay with a mother that crashes her car while under the influence? You may have allowed your standards to plummet over the years but I haven’t mine,” Ian bit out. 

Jack took several steps towards Ian, his anger radiating off him. “What are you even talking about? It’s like you’ve forgotten everything. You know as well as I do that those medications were prescribed to Trish. She’d been taking the Xanax because the panic attacks were becoming more frequent. And the Percocet was for the broken rib. Remember? That was the nice little parting gift that Nate gave her the first time she tried to leave. So you want her to give up and just let her daughter live fulltime with _that_ man? You think _he’s_ the best choice?”

Listening to Jack’s words brought a sinking feeling to Ian’s stomach. Chloe’s countenance finally made sense to him. The girl was withdrawn because of her pain, her fear. The possibilities of what she had witnessed happening to her mother made Ian feel sick. The possibilities of what could happen to _Chloe_ if she ended up with her father… Ian didn’t even want to fathom them. 

“Who are you?” 

Ian was pulled from his thoughts by Jack’s sudden and strange question, and he narrowed his gaze. “What kind of question is that?”

“A valid one,” Jack said fiercely and encroached further into Ian’s sphere. “Because over the past few days you’ve been a stranger to everyone. You’re acting nothing like the man I know you are. First, you run out on Rose—a very pregnant Rose, I might add. Then, you run from me the second I show up at your house. So what is going on with you? After everything we’ve been through, you owe me an explanation.”

Ian’s eyes became dark with barely constrained emotion. “Get out of my office, Jack. I don’t owe you anything. I don’t have to explain myself to you or anyone. So…Get. Out,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

Jack’s eyes raged with so many emotions, predominately pain and anger. His nostrils flaring and his breaths ragged with rage, Jack flung the door open, allowing it to bounce against the wall and not bothering to shut it as he left. Ian could feel the carefully constructed barriers within him splinter and he sank onto his desk, his hands gripping the edge for stability. 

Suki approached the door. “Everythin’ alright, Mr. Smith?” she asked nervously. 

He mutely nodded his head and Suki left, albeit reluctantly. But despite what he’d implied, Ian knew that nothing was remotely close to being alright. 

****

Rose once again found herself curled up on the sofa, quietly reading as she waited for Ian to return home. But no matter how hard she tried, she could not focus on the words before her. After her morning visit with her dad, Rose had decided that talking with Ian couldn’t and shouldn’t wait. For some reason, she found herself unusually nervous about what was to come. She had a terrible sense of foreboding and she could feel it mentally and physically manifest within her. 

A click of the lock grabbed Rose’s attention, and she hurried off the couch as best as she could and went to foyer. She found Ian there, standing wearily. He looked up at her and she saw something in his eyes that she hadn’t seen in years. It pained her to the core, just as it had back then. Rose took several slow steps towards him. 

“Hello.”

“Hello,” she replied softly.

He threw his keys onto the table against the wall and hung up his coat. He turned back around, loosening his tie as he did so. Rose noticed he was avoiding eye contact with her and it just further added to her resolve to settle things between them. 

He cleared his throat and attempted to make small talk. “How’s Olivia?”

Rose smiled softly at the affectionate tone with which he said their daughter’s name. “She’s fine. She’s at Mum and Dad’s. I asked them to watch her this evenin’.”

At that last statement, his eyes flashed with worry and he furrowed his brow. 

Taking another step closer to him, she said, “We really need to talk.”

Ian sighed. This was the last thing that he wanted to do. “There’s nothing to talk about,” he said decidedly as he sidestepped her and headed to the living room. 

Rose was hot on his heels. “S’cuse me? Nothin’ to talk about?”

He turned and looked at her hotly. “Yes. Nothing to talk about. Did I stutter?”

Ian’s tone made Rose see red. “Don’t you _dare_ talk to me like that! I don’t care how angry you are, I don’t deserve that!”

His shoulders slouched slightly. “What do you want, Rose?”

“What do I want?” she asked, her eyes wide. “What I want is for you to talk to me! All you’ve done the past four days is shut me out! You don’t answer your mobile when I call. Ya don’t kiss me. Ya don’t even touch me… not even hold my hand. You barely even look at me. You act like I’m nothin’ to you. Why…,” she took a deep breath as the room started to become fuzzy, “why won’t you just tell me what’s goin’ on?”

“What am I supposed to say?” he growled as he began to pace. “Why is it so important to you? Why do you even _care_?”

Rose was in shock. She open and closed her mouth several time before saying, “Are ya seriously askin’ me that? It’s important to me because _you’re_ important to me! I care because you’re my husband. Because I love you! Why do ya think I’m standin’ here begging you to talk to me?” She took several breaths to calm herself. The room continued to become hazy and she wiped at her eyes to clear her tears. However, there were no tears and the haziness remained.

Ian tugged on his hair angrily. Her words were practically pounding against him and he could feel himself cracking. She _loved_ him? How could she possibly love him? If she truly knew him, she wouldn’t love him.

“Well, stop begging. Because you shouldn’t care! Stop trying to fix this, to fix me…because you can’t! This is me, Rose…This is what you get,” he spat. He didn’t even know why the words were coming out of his mouth. He didn’t know the ‘why’ to anything anymore.

Rose began to pale. She closed her eyes briefly and ran her hand through her hair. “But this _isn’t_ you!” she shouted. “I _know_ you… the real you. The one that’s worth fightin’ for…the one that’s worth everythin’…th-,” she stopped, because she could no longer make out his figure and the words felt heavy on her tongue. She sluggishly put a hand on her stomach.

Ian’s eyes honed in on her. He instantly sensed something was wrong and he felt panic rise in his chest. He took a step towards her, but still remained a slight distance away, in case he was wrong. 

Her eyes locked with his, but Ian could see they were out of focus. “Cillian…,” she whispered before her eyes rolled back in her head and she began to slump to the floor. 

Ian ran to her, catching her before she hit the ground. He had her cradled in his arms and desperately felt for a pulse. He let out a ragged breath when he felt it beneath his fingers. 

“Rose…Rose?! C’mon, Rose. Don’t do this to me. Wake up!” he pleaded, stroking her head frantically. “Rose, I _need_ you to wake up!” 

She remained limp in his arms. Knowing he could waste no more time, Ian gathered her up and rushed out the door. He knew he could get her to hospital quicker than any ambulance could. He carefully laid her into the seat, and after getting in himself, he threw the car into gear. 

He was there in a matter of minutes. Not even bothering to turn off the engine, Ian flew out of his seat and gathered Rose to him once again, clutching her desperately to his body as he practically ran through the sliding doors and into the A&E. The personnel only took a moment to register his presence before they were at his side. They tried to pry Rose away from him, but Ian’s arms wouldn’t give way.

“You have to let go of her, now!” one of the men said firmly. 

Ian knew he was glaring at the man, but he also knew he had to let her go. Finally loosening his grip, the staff put her on the gurney and rushed her to an available room, firing questions at him the entire way there. 

“What ‘appened?” a ginger in a white coat asked. 

“I don’t know,” Ian said frantically, rubbing the back of his neck raw. “She was standing there and then, her eyes rolled back and…and… why isn’t she waking up?!” he shouted. 

They ignored that question. “What’s her name?”

“Rose…Her name’s Rose.”

“And she’s your…?”

“Wife,” he replied hurriedly and without thought. 

One of the nurses turned to him and gently put her hand on his arm. “We need you to wait outside while we take care of her.”

Ian’s eyes became stone cold. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Her features became tight. “Sir, you don’t understand—“

“No, _you_ don’t understand,” he said hotly, “I am _not_ leaving her. So don’t ask again.” His tone brooked no further questions.

The nurse pointed to station outside the room. “You wait there. No arguments,” she said with finality and entered the organized chaos surrounding Rose. 

Ian obeyed and walked over to where she’d pointed and watched them work on Rose. He took in every minute detail as best he could. They’d started an IV on her and hung some sort of fluid. He could see various numbers displayed on the screen above her head and could see some sort of waveform, which he supposed was her heart rhythm. They also began attaching things to her to monitor the baby. What felt like an eternity passed before their activity began to slow, and the ginger from earlier approached him. 

Ian pushed off of the counter he’d been leaning against. “How’s Rose?”

“Mister…?” the ginger inquired.

“Smith. Ian Smith. Now, tell me what’s going on with Rose,” he demanded.

“Mr. Smith, I’m Dr. Collins. Your wife is going to be okay, but she’s not awake yet, so I’m admitting her to Obstetrics. She and the baby need to be monitored carefully. Can you tell me if your wife has been treated for preeclampsia?”

“I don’t know,” Ian said wearily. 

Dr. Collins frowned at his answer, obviously displeased at his lack of knowledge. “Well, that’s what I’m admitting her with. The nurses are getting ready to move her upstairs. You can go with them.”

Ian nodded before quickly joining Rose and the nurses as they transported her into the elevator. There was a nurse on both sides of Rose, blocking Ian’s access to her. The exited onto the Obstetrics floor and Ian quietly but agitatedly waited while they set Rose up in the room, hooking her and the baby up to the necessary monitors. The second they were finished, Ian hurried into the room. He was instantly arrested by the sight of Rose, pale, eyes closed, and her body still except for the rise and fall of her chest. Ian felt a sinking feeling in his stomach the longer he looked at her. It was a stark contrast to the image of her from that morning, and it was painful to observe. 

He pulled a chair over to the side of her bed and sat down. Ian sat there staring at her for a moment before he reached over and took her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. He continued to sit there silently, the only noise in the room coming from the beeping of the monitors. He continued to hold her hand, but as the hours passed, he felt his eyes become heavy. He fought for as long as possible, but in the end it was fruitless, and he fell asleep. 

Faded images of Rose plagued his subconscious. Images of her smile. Images of her face. But each time, they morphed into ones of her falling, with him never being able to reach her. He was suddenly jarred from such visions by his familiar incessant alarm. Ian shot upright and became frantic as he saw his surroundings. He was no longer sitting with Rose, but instead, he was back in his flat. Ian looked down at his empty hand and his heart began to ache at the absence. In that moment, Ian threw back the covers and rushed to get changed. He had somewhere he needed to be. 


	9. Just To See You Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tuesday, November 5, 2013
> 
> Brave--Sara Bareilles

Rose sat on her stool behind the counter, nervously biting her thumbnail. She looked up at the clock on the wall for the umpteenth time, and on seeing the time, began biting her nail all the more till she was nearly at the quick. It was midmorning and still nothing had happened—nothing at all. Of course, she’d had the normal early morning rush, but even that wasn’t able to distract her relentless thoughts. Rose had a one track mind that morning. Business was at a lull, allowing silence to fuel her disappointment. The longer she sat and mulled, the more Rose began to fear she’d been incredibly stupid. She had made a split second decision in the lift, and it was one Rose had hoped would pay off in the end. But now…now, she was afraid she'd come out a loser on all counts—Ian wouldn't show and she might have permanently lost her mobile, all because of some ridiculous whim.

Rose continued to kick herself mentally. She really, _really_ hadn't thought this one out. How was he even supposed to find her? He could always search through her mobile, though for some reason she doubted he would go that route. He might try _Rendezvous,_ but if Ian did that, he’d more than likely run into Donna. Oh, Lord…what if that happened? She could just imagine Donna’s reaction. And that was by no means an ideal scenario. 

And then there was the fact that without her mobile, no one could readily contact her. She hadn’t even thought about what would happen if any of her friends or family tried and failed to reach her. It wasn’t till after she arrived at her flat, that Rose realized the complications she’d caused. After a few hours of being without her mobile, everyone began to bombard Martha, Rose’s flatmate and one of her closest friends. Poor Martha—she was unbelievably stressed over exams, and every time she had attempted to hunker down and study, her mobile would ring. Half the time it was for her, and the other half it was for Rose. After Jackie rang for the fourth time in twenty minutes, Martha had finally given up and tossed Rose the mobile before locking herself in her room and refusing to come out for three hours. Rose still felt guilty that her spontaneity had caused Martha so much hassle. 

To be perfectly honest, Rose just wanted to have a plausible excuse to see Ian again. Being trapped in that lift with him had been very…enlightening. After giving him verbal whiplash, she’d found herself feeling very awkward being confined in such a small space with him. As her anger began to dim, Rose was hit with almost an overload of other emotions; emotions so strong and so exhilarating, they nearly knocked her off her feet. Rose was certain that she’d never felt anything like it in her life. And to be perfectly honest once again, it was a little frightening. How could she feel so strongly about a virtual stranger? She knew nothing about him. Well, not _exactly_ nothing—she knew two things. One, that he hated pears—not exactly the basis for a relationship of any kind. And two, he was a prosecutor—and he was “better than good.” Remembering his smile and the playful tone in his answer, Rose found herself smiling widely. That smile had made her heart skip a beat. Ian was definitely handsome, more than a handsome really. He was gorgeous. He had _amazing_ hair, dark chocolate eyes, and then there was the way he looked in those suits… Rose’s eyes widened and she flushed bright red at her train of thought. 

_I really need to get ahold of myself…_

Just then, Sally hurried in, effectively breaking Rose’s musings. She looked up and gave the girl a smile. 

“I’m so sorry I’m late, Rose. My piece of crap car decided to bite the dust on me. I had to ring up Kathy for a ride. Was it bad this morning?”

“Nah,” Rose said as she shook her head. “Nothin’ I couldn’t handle.” Rose tried to keep her mind focused on what needed to be done that morning, but she could feel thoughts of Ian trying to push their way to the forefront. 

Sally could see that Rose’s mind was preoccupied. “Watcha thinkin’ about?” she asked curiously. 

“Hmm? Oh, no one…I mean nothin’…,” Rose fumbled pitifully.

Sally’s eyebrows met her hairline and her eyes twinkled with excitement. “No one? Who’s no one?”

Rose remained silent and turned her gaze away, feeling her cheeks burn. 

“Rose Tyler…do you have a bloke?” Sally asked, practically squealing. 

Rose jumped up from her stool and began busying herself with the displays. “No, I don’t have a bloke.” 

Sally hurried behind the counter and dropped her bag and jacket to the ground before hurrying in front of Rose. Rose continued to avoid eye contact with her, instead allowing her hair to shield her face. 

“Rose Marion Tyler, look me in the eye and tell me that there’s no bloke.”

Rose took a deep breath and tried to gain her composure. She raised her head and met Sally’s eager and questioning gaze. 

“Sally Noel Sparrow,” she mimicked, “there is no bloke.” Rose attempted to sound firm, but her efforts fell flat. 

Sally quirked an eyebrow skeptically at Rose’s response. Rose felt the corners of her mouth tug upward, threatening to break into a smile. She felt the flush begin to creep up her neck and she hurriedly turned around, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Aha!” Sally squealed, pointing a finger at her, “You do! Ya did that thing with your hair. Ya always do that when you get nervous.”

“I do not,” Rose insisted. It was just then that she realized her hand was again tucking her hair back. She jerked her hand down and moved away from Sally. 

Undeterred, Sally followed after her. “Sooo…what’s his name? How’d ya meet him? Tell me, tell me!”

“I already told ya there’s no bloke.”

“You’re _such_ a liar! Ya might as well spill because I’m not givin’ up.”

Fortunately for Rose, the bakery phone rang. Rose let out an audible sigh of relief and quickly grabbed the phone. Sally grinned conspiratorially. “We’re not done here,” she said before picking up her jacket and bag to properly put them away. 

Rose rolled her eyes as Sally walked off, and turned her attention back to the call. “Bad Wolf Bakery, this is Rose.”

_“When are ya gonna get your bleedin’ mobile back? Do y’know how difficult it’s been tryin’ to get ahold of ya?”_

“Hello to you, too, Mum.”

_“Sorry, love. Didn’t mean to snap.”_

There was an unusually long silence from her mum. 

“Mum? Everythin’ alright?”

_“Everythin’s fine. What about you, sweetheart? What are you doing?”_

There was something about Jackie’s tone that was off. It was almost as if she wasn’t completely present for their conversation. 

“Uh, well, rang the bakery so…that would mean I’m workin’.”

_“That’s nice… so, what are ya doing?”_

“Okay, Mum, what’s goin’ on? You’re being weird.”

Jackie sighed into the phone. _“Rose, I have somethin’ to tell ya. It’s…well, it’s big.”_

“How big?” Rose asked hesitantly, unsure whether to be worried or excited.

 _“Oh…pretty big. It’s good, just…big. And very…unexpected,”_ Jackie said with a smile in her voice.

“You’re not pregnant, are ya?” Rose joked, laughing into the phone. 

There was silence on the other end.

Rose gripped the phone tightly. “Are you having a laugh?”

_“No, Rose. I’m having a baby. You’re dad and me are at the doctor’s now. They just confirmed it.”_

Rose opened and closed her mouth several times before finally finding her voice. “Oh, my God, Mum! That’s… that’s great!”

_“You’re really okay with this, Rose?”_

“’Course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

_“Well…You’re not gonna be an only child anymore. And I thought… well, honestly, I’m not sure what I thought. It’s just important to your dad and me that you’re okay with this. Y’know no matter what, you’ll always be our lil’ girl. Nothin’s ever gonna change that, love.”_

“I know that, Mum,” Rose assured her. “And I’m a big girl now; I think I can handle not being the only one anymore.”

Rose could practically hear the relief and smile in her mum’s voice as she spoke. _“All right, sweetheart. I’ve got to go. The doctor’s back. I’ll talk to you later. Love you.”_

“Love you, too, Mum.”

With the line now dead, Rose turned off the phone, staring at it afterwards. Her mum was pregnant. _Pregnant!_ How did that happen? Well, obviously she knew _how_ it happened, but it just seemed so surreal. There would be twenty-one years separating her and her brother or sister. _Twenty-one years_. The idea of it stunned Rose into silence. 

Sally came back into the room, grinning madly and clearly eager to resume their previous conversation. However, upon seeing Rose’s dazed expression, Sally immediately became concerned. 

“Y’okay, Rose? Everythin’ all right with your mum?”

Rose nodded. “Yeah…she’s fine. More than fine.”

“What do ya mean?” Sally asked, wrinkling her brow. 

Taking a deep, clearing breath, Rose walked out from behind the counter. “Um, I’m gonna go out for a mo’. Isobel should be in soon. Think ya can manage for a bit?”

“Yeah, sure. No problem,” Sally assured her though still worried about her friend. “Sure you’re okay?”

Rose smiled softly. “Yeah,” she reiterated, quickly turning on her heels and exiting the bakery. She turned left and began to walk. She had no destination in mind, simply functioning on autopilot. She hadn’t traveled very far before she accidently knocked into a passerby’s side. Realizing what she’d done, Rose hurriedly turned to look at the stranger to apologize. On seeing who it was, the words died on her lips. Standing in front of her was the man she’d been waiting all morning for—Ian. 

Ian seemed as equally stunned to see her. They stood there for what seemed like eternity, just staring at each other, neither saying a word. Rose was not only shocked into silence by his sudden appearance, but also by the intensity of his gaze. Oh God, those eyes… Rose could lose herself in them without even trying. 

Finally breaking the silence, Ian said, “Hello.” 

“Hello,” she replied, a smile emerging on hearing his voice.

Ian quietly sighed. He was so relieved to see Rose again. To see the glow of life around her. To hear her voice, a calming caress to his frazzled nerves. On seeing her smile, Ian found himself mirroring her action. He couldn’t help it; it just felt natural when seeing her. Suddenly remembering his excuse for seeing her, Ian reached into his coat pocket and pulled out her “forgotten” mobile. 

“Um, I found this in the lift yesterday. You must’ve dropped it,” he said handing it to her. 

“Oh, thanks.” 

As she reached her hand out to take it from him, their fingers grazed each other. Though it was a small action, it sent shivers through both of them. 

Rose nervously cleared her throat. “Now everyone will settle down. Drove ‘em all a bit barmy when they couldn’t reach me,” she finished smiling shyly at him. 

“Yeah,” Ian grinned. “It rang… _a lot_.”

Rose chuckled at his emphasis.

“Don’t worry. I didn’t go snooping.”

“I’m not worried. I trust you,” she said sincerely, her smile widening. 

They settled back into staring wordlessly at each other, something both of them appeared quite content with doing. Yet the longer they continued, the more they each began to feel a heated blush threatening to take over their faces. 

Rose was the first to break her gaze away, turning it downward. “So…um…”

“Yes, well,” Ian said, grinding one of his trainers into the pavement. “I guess I should go. You probably have things to do.” He was reluctant to part from her. In truth, it was the last thing he wanted. Ian was still plagued with images of Rose collapsing. Her lying in a hospital bed, unconscious and pale. Ian didn’t want to be left alone with those painful memories. As it was, he already had too many of those kinds of memories. 

“No,” Rose said quickly, not ready to part from him just yet. “I mean, no, I don’t have much to do. ‘Sides, Sally’s watching the shop for me. I actually just stepped out to get some air.”

Ian felt hopeful at Rose’s reaction; however, he wasn’t sure what response to give next. He didn’t have to worry long because Rose spoke up again.

“Would you want to come with? Unless you’re busy. Or don’t want to…,” she trailed off, fretful that he’d turn down her offer.

He smiled at her nervous invitation. “Air sounds good. Been needing a lot of air lately.”

Though she was confused by his last statement, Rose smiled brightly at his acceptance. As she began to walk again, Ian fell into step with her. They only walked a short distance before Ian boldly took the initiative to start a conversation. 

“So was there a particular reason you needed air?”

Rose pushed back her hair. “Well…just found out my mum is pregnant. Sorta found it necessary to get as much air as possible after that bombshell.”

Ian’s eyes widened at that revelation. He hadn’t met any sibling of Rose’s. He hoped that was purely a matter of circumstances not allowing it, and not something else. 

“I take it you’re not happy about it?” 

Rose shook her head. “No, it’s not that at all. It’s… It’s just strange, s’all. Twenty-one years is one heck of an age gap. I’m old enough to be its mother. Me havin’ a baby? Can ya imagine that?” she asked more rhetorically than anything else. 

At that statement, Ian grinned. He didn’t have to imagine that. He’d seen it firsthand, and it wasn’t an unpleasant sight.

Realizing what she’d just said, Rose began to backpedal. “I didn’t mean that… Well, I did; but I wasn’t really asking you, or expectin’ an answer. It’s just weird and I’m spiraling a lil’ and… and I think I’m gonna stop talkin’ before I make more of an idiot outta myself.” 

Ian couldn’t help but laugh as she hopelessly floundered. It was rather…endearing. Rose looked up at him upon hearing his laughter. She loved the sound of it. Seeing the life it brought to his features, she broke into a brilliant smile, her tongue peeking through her teeth. As they did in the lift, Ian’s eyes flitted to her mouth. He found that smile utterly captivating, and it stirred his soul when he saw it. Rose felt her cheeks blaze as he intensely gazed at her. She ducked her head and stared at the pavement, urging her body to control itself. She then noticed his footwear and broke into another broad grin. 

“Trainers?” she asked as she looked back up at him. 

“Sorry?”

“Your shoes. You’re wearing trainers…with a suit.” 

He pulled on his ear sheepishly. “Yeah… I guess it’s sorta peculiar.”

Rose shrugged her shoulders. “I like it. ‘S different. I just wouldn’t ‘ve pegged ya as the trainer type.”

“Oh, yeah? And why’s that?” Ian asked curiously. He had a fairly good guess, but he was interested in her perspective.

She quirked an eyebrow. “Honestly?”

“Please,” he prodded with a nod of his head.

Rose stopped and looked at him squarely. “Well, to be honest, ya keep your guard up. Keep others at a distance. Trainers make you sort of… accessible. Shows a different side of ya.”

He turned his gaze away from her, starting to feel uncomfortable with her estimation. He swallowed hard. “You got that from a pair of shoes?”

“The shoes… and a couple of other things,” she said softly. 

Ian looked at her again, trying to understand just who this woman was that she could see into him and perceive such things. As she met his stare, he quickly turned away and they began walking again. Familiar silence descended once again.

“I’ve worn them since I was young. I hated having to dress up. My brother loved it. Any excuse to show off. But I did anything I could to get out of it. Didn’t mind the suits… but I hated those florsheims. Always slipping and sliding. Not ideal for making a clean getaway when you’re a kid. But my father…,” he started but trailed off.

Rose could hear the emotion in his voice, and desperately wanted to prod him further. But something in Rose admonished her to be patient, to let him speak at his own pace.

Finding his courage, Ian began again. “My father made a deal with me. Said if I wore the suit, then I could wear whatever shoes I wanted. So being a kid, I naturally went with the trainers. Just sort of stuck after that.”

Though she couldn’t explain why, Rose sensed that Ian revealing this anecdote was significant. She smiled warmly at him. “Well, I’m glad it did. I like ‘em.”

He gave her a small smile, but offered nothing further. 

“So, are you and your dad close?” Rose asked, hoping to learn more about this man who endlessly intrigued her. 

In that instant, Ian’s entire body tensed and that guard rose again. “We were.” 

“Do ya have a big fam—“ 

“Shouldn’t you be getting back to your shop?” Ian cut her off sharply. 

Rose made an appraisal of him again. His body remained tense, his jaw stiff and his eyes hard and pained. She’d crossed into forbidden territory and had been immediately thrown out.

“Probably.” Rose took a hard swallow at seeing the harshness return to him. “Walk back with me?” she asked softly. 

Ian said nothing, merely nodded his head and followed her lead. Guilt began to eat at her as they walked back to the bakery. She hadn’t meant to broach a sensitive subject so soon. She simply found herself hungering for information about this enigma beside her. 

Not wanting to remain in awkward silence, Rose chose another subject; something far away from their previous topic. “How did ya find me, by the way?”

“I was out the other day and I walked by your window. I recognized the wolf from the box you gave me,” he said, his voice softening just slightly. “Why’d you call it Bad Wolf Bakery?”

“My dad would tell me Little Red Riding Hood before bed. It became my favorite story.”

Ian wrinkled his brow in confusion. “Wasn’t the wolf the villain? Seems an odd choice.”

She grinned. “Dad had a different version. He said the wolf protected Red, risked its life to make sure she was safe from the dangerous woods. Where she went, the wolf went with her.”

“What was wrong with the story the way it was?”

Rose shrugged her shoulders. “Nothin’ I guess. But I like his version better. Everyone needs someone lookin’ out for them. Someone who sticks by ‘em no matter how dark things get. Don’t ya think?”

Ian halted his steps and looked at her directly. Who was this woman? Why was she constantly appearing in his life? Rose met his gaze with almost equal intensity, and Ian could swear she was staring into his soul, yet again. 

He sniffed and motioned his head forwards. “I believe this is your stop.”

Rose followed to where he was pointing and realized they’d arrived back at the bakery. Disappointment immediately set in. She didn’t want to leave him yet. Some part deep within her didn’t want to leave him ever. But she realized that, at this moment, she had to let him go. She had to have faith…faith in whatever it was that was constantly pulling them towards each other. 

Rose spoke first. “Thanks for the walk.”

“My pleasure.”

“Maybe we should do it again, sometime,” she offered.

The harshness of Ian’s features softened somewhat. “Maybe we should.”

A beat passed.

“Well, I guess I’ll see ya round,” Ian said, extending his hand to bid goodbye.

Rose put her hand within his, and was once again struck by how perfectly they fit together, how natural it was to have his hand wrapped around hers. 

“Y’know where to find me.” With that, she released his hand, albeit reluctantly, and entered the bakery.

Ian watched her for a moment before turning and walking away. As Rose entered the bakery, she immediately noticed Sally and Isobel staring intently at her. Both of them grinned at her. 

She stopped midstride. “What?”

“’No bloke,’ my round bottom,” Sally snorted. 

“Oh, shut it,” Rose said as she rolled her eyes. 

“And just who was that lovely specimen of manlihood?” Isobel teasingly inquired.

Rose shrugged her shoulders as she continued towards the kitchen. “Not exactly sure.”

Both Sally and Isobel were clearly not buying into that. They continued to pelt her with questions, but Rose deflected them enough times to where the girls decided to put their questioning on hold. As Rose went about preparing various orders, she couldn’t help but ponder over her encounter with Ian and the response she’d given to Sally and Isobel. 

Rose hadn’t lied when she said she wasn’t sure who he was exactly. She didn’t know who he was, yet. But one thing was for certain. She was going to find out. 


	10. Falling Slowly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wednesday, November 6, 2019
> 
> You Give Me Something--James Morrison

For the first time since experiencing this reality, Ian did not awake to the warmth of his and Rose’s bedroom. No, that morning he awoke to the sterile and unwelcoming environment of a hospital room. He blinked slowly, allowing his tired eyes to adjust to the harsh fluorescents that flooded the room. As his surroundings came into focus, Ian realized that his head was pillowed on Rose’s bed, his hand still clutching hers as if it was his lifeline. Feeling a twinge of pain in his neck, Ian lifted his head off the bed and stretched his strained muscles. As he did so, he felt soft fingers tighten around his own. Immediately, he turned to look at Rose, his eyes locking with hers. 

“Hey,” she said softly, giving him a tired smile. 

Ian let out a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding, and rubbed his face with his free hand, wrapping it around his neck. “You’re awake,” he said, his relief evident. 

Rose’s smile gained strength. “So are you.”

His lips quirked into a small smile. “Yes, well, I’m not the one currently connected to monitors and lying in a hospital bed.”

On mention of the hospital, Rose grimaced and shifted in bed. “Yeah, I noticed that. What happened? The last thing I remember is we—“

As her memory of the previous night came to her, she trailed off and Ian turned his eyes away from her. His remembrance of the unspoken events pained him. Not so much his words, he’d meant them. But Rose’s words and expressions still reverberated within his core, an ability that she had clearly mastered. And the more he observed her lying there in that unnatural environment, the more Ian became convinced that he bared the responsibility for putting her there. 

Rose tightened her grip on his hand and gently stroked his skin. She knew that look, knew the war raging within his mind. It was so reminiscent of the past, of the beginning of their relationship.

“Hey,” she said, squeezing his hand to garner his attention. Ian didn’t respond, instead keeping his gaze on anywhere but her.

“Ian…Look at me,” she gently commanded, tugging slightly on his hand. 

This time he obeyed, and turned his gaze to her. His eyes held a familiar guard, but Rose could see what he was attempting to hide.

Rose looked at him squarely, yet her eyes were anything but harsh. “I know what you’re thinkin’ and this is _not_ your fault.”

Ian sniffed and quickly diverted his eyes. 

“No, look at me,” she said, this time slightly firmer. He hesitantly met her gaze again, and felt the air within him become motionless. Rose’s eyes were brimming with emotion; an emotion that he couldn’t be sure, but would swear resembled… _love?_ Could that really be what he was seeing? 

Before he could ponder further, Rose continued. “I know that look. Seen it too many times to forget it. But more importantly, I know _you_. And for some reason, ya seem to think you’re to blame. But you did _not_ put me here,” she stroked her swollen stomach, “didn’t put _us_ here, and I won’t have ya thinkin’ differently.”

Ian could do nothing but wordlessly stare at her. This woman baffled him. How could one person know another that deeply? To know what they were feeling without words transpiring? More to the point, why would she want that with _him_? Ian knew that he, of all people, didn’t deserve such a thing…not after what he’d done. However, the longer Rose continued to hold his gaze with her soulful, loving brown eyes, the more it became increasingly difficult to not want it; to not want h—

“And _this_ is why I harped on you to take things seriously!” 

A woman’s sudden appearance stopped Ian before he could finish his thought. The fact that he had been unable to complete it caused a warring within him between relief and disappointment. However as the woman’s words settled on him, Ian immediately stopped his personal musings and focused on the implications of what had been said. His gaze flew from the woman to Rose, his eyes narrowing as they reached her.

“And just what does _that_ mean?” 

His tone, though not unkind, demanded an explanation. Rose shifted under his intensity, and this time it was her turn to divert her eyes.

His lips parted to speak, but the woman’s voice halted this as she turned and addressed him.

“You still don’t know?” she asked quietly, more of a statement than a question, before turning her focus back to Rose. She released a frustrated sigh as she furrowed her brow and began rubbing her forehead. “Bloody bullheaded,” she mumbled under her breath. 

Rose turned her head back towards the woman, her voice quiet as she began. “Martha—“

Martha shook her head briefly. Though her expression remained serious, her eyes showed warmth and concern. “Rose, I’m not looking for a fight. I’m just a lil’ worked up. I get my list of admits this morning and yours is the first name on it.” 

On seeing Rose’s eyes become glassy, Martha walked over to her and took her free hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “But I’m here now, and everythin’s gonna be all right. We’ll get you straightened out, yeah?”

Rose nodded silently, yet offered a small smile in acceptance and appreciation. 

Martha turned her focus from Rose to Ian. Motioning to the door with her head, Martha said, “Ian, a word?”

Ian nodded, pushing his chair back as he stood. His hand was still intertwined with Rose’s, something he was reluctant to break. Yet Ian knew that he needed to listen to whatever Martha had to say, that he was unaware of something that was of vital importance. He would just have to endure the momentary absence of her touch. With a small, soft smile, Ian released Rose’s hand and followed Martha into the hallway. Martha moved a few steps down the hall so they wouldn’t be talking directly outside the room. 

She turned to face him, but Ian was the first to speak. “What’s going on with Rose that I don’t know about?”

Crossing her arms in front of her, Martha sighed and said, “About two weeks ago, Rose came in for her exam. I noticed some…irregularities in her lab work. Abnormal levels of protein in her urine. Her vitals were above normal—“

“To the point, if you don’t mind,” Ian said snappily. Concern and confusion about Rose’s wellbeing weren’t allowing any room for politeness. 

Martha cocked an eyebrow at the tone he took. However, instead of harshly reprimanding him for his attitude, she chose to ignore it, knowing that Rose’s condition was the reason for it. 

“She has preeclampsia.”

“Yes, I know that,” Ian said shortly, agitatedly running a hand through his hair. ”That’s what the doctor downstairs said. But what does that _mean_?”

“It means that we have to watch her and the baby like a hawk. More than likely she’ll make it to term without any more complications and deliver normally. But…,” her tone became more serious, “But if we don’t keep close watch, there’s a chance somethin’ could happen.”

“What do you mean ‘something’?” Ian’s eyes bored into Martha, raging with emotions so numerous that she would never be able to identify all of them. He knew the answer; Martha was certain of it. Ian was a highly intelligent man. She merely stared at him, not wanting to acknowledge the answer herself. 

His eyes widened and he turned from her, fiercely scrubbing his face. As he turned back towards her, Martha could readily identify the fear and panic in his eyes. 

“Ya need to get yourself together,” she admonished firmly yet kindly, attempting to rein him in before he escalated beyond reasoning. 

“You tell me that Rose could die and ya want me to act like that’s okay. Friend of the year, you are,” he scoffed bitterly, his eyes beginning to darken with anger.

Martha took a few steps forward. “Listen here,” she pointed at him, “I understand you’re lashing out because you’re scared. But don’t you _ever_ question my concern for Rose! I’ve known her a lot longer than you have, and I would never act so cavalier about her or the baby.”

Sniffing, Ian turned his gaze to the side. 

“The reason I said you have to get it together is because Rose can’t afford to have you in a panic. She needs to keep calm. I don’t know what all happened last night, but when I talked to Karen, she said—“

“Who’s Karen?” Ian demanded. 

“She’s the doctor who admitted Rose. Either way, she told me that Rose was unconscious and her pressure was 186/102. Fortunately, her labs weren’t too bad, so all they really had to do was give her some IV antihypertensives. But the more stressed and anxious Rose gets, the more she risks having another episode like she did. So like I said, you need to keep it together. For Rose’s sake.”

As Martha said those final two words, Ian looked at her once more. He was being called to on to care for Rose, to be a source of strength for her. He wasn’t sure how to respond to that, neither verbally nor internally. There was so much within him struggling for control, and Ian had no idea how to maneuver through the chaos. However, there was one thing of which he was certain—nothing else could happen to Rose. The very idea of it pierced his heart. She was too important, too special to….others, to allow anything to happen to her. 

Acknowledging Martha with a nod, Ian sidestepped her and rejoined Rose. As he entered the room, Rose’s eyes immediately sought his, seeking their comfort and reassurance. Despite the torrent of fear and insecurity that Martha’s words had caused him, all of that seemed to fade into the background the moment their eyes met. Seeing her, merely being in the vicinity of her, caused a sense of contentment to settle over Ian. His natural inclination was to fight it; but then she smiled at him, and all pretense of resistance failed. Ian returned her smile and took his seat beside her again. He had no sooner sat down, when Rose’s eyes became troubled and she took a hard swallow, attempting to control her emotions. 

“’M sorry,” she whispered, guiltily averting her eyes. “I shoulda told you.”

“Why didn’t you?” he questioned, though refrained from sounding harsh or accusatory. 

Exhaling shakily, she turned her head towards him, but still wouldn’t meet his eyes. “It didn’t seem like that big ‘a deal. I… I felt fine for the most part. Sorta tired, but that’s nothin’ new. And I didn’t…”

Ian furrowed his brow as she trailed off. “Didn’t what?” he prodded.

Finally gaining her courage, Rose lifted her eyes just enough to see him. “I didn’t want to make things worse for you. You were already so stressed with work and then when you ran out…. I just didn’t want ya to worry ‘bout me, ‘specially since I didn’t think it was anythin’ to get worked up over.”

“Yeah, I think it’s safe to say it’s something to worry about,” Ian said decidedly, his guilt returning full force. To spare _his_ feelings, Rose had remained silent. Because of _his_ behavior, she had put herself at risk.

Rose frantically groped for his hand, locking her fingers with his when she found it. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Please don’t be upset with me. I know it’s my fault…that I shoulda said somethin’ to ya sooner. It was stupid…just please...” Unable to continue, Rose’s voice broke, and her silent tears gained strength. 

Ian rubbed the back of his neck vigorously while shaking his head. “This isn’t your fault, Rose. Yeah, you shoulda said something, but because of _me_ , you—“

“No,” she clipped. “I already told you to not go blamin’ yourself. It’s not your fault. So just stop with that.”

“So neither of us is allowed to take the blame?” he said irritably. 

“Well, you’re not,” Rose said decidedly.

“Neither are you!” Ian retorted. 

“Well there ya have it,” she said with finality. 

Ian blinked at her several times. “Did we just argue about who was taking blame?” 

A slow grin broke across her face. “Kinda.”

Before they could continue, Martha returned and examined Rose, before promptly leaving to order various labs and procedures. Soon thereafter, the nurse came in to check on her, followed by the phlebotomist, who quickly collected several vials of blood. 

“I look like a pin cushion with all these needle marks,” Rose grumbled as she pulled off the cotton and tape from her arms. 

“I don’t understand why it took her so long to find a vein.”

Rose cocked an eyebrow at him, grinning as she did so. 

“What?” Ian asked, his brow wrinkling in confusion at her expression.

“I’m pretty sure it’s ‘cause she was scared of ya.”

Ian rolled his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he sniffed.

“Oh c’mon,” Rose laughed. “You pelted her with questions the second she walked in, and practically burned a hole in her head with your staring.”

Ian shrugged his shoulders unapologetically. “Weelll, she should know what she’s doing, or find someone who does.”

Her grin broadened. “I just love it when you get all protective,” Rose said flirtingly, her grin evolving into that smile she knew was his favorite. 

Ian’s eyes widened ever so slightly at her tone, but on seeing that smile, a deep crimson heat rushed over him. The room suddenly felt very stuffy. Rose couldn’t help but giggle at his flustered manner. It was adorable, so much like the beginning of their relationship. But, they were no longer at the beginning of things, and Rose would be lying if she said she wasn’t missing the usual, more overt signs of affection from her husband. It had felt like an eternity since he’d kissed her, since he’d looked at her with that look—the one that said she was his entirety. Without it, Rose felt that a piece of her was missing. Craving that completion, she leaned in closer to him, her eyes flitting to his lips. Ian remained frozen, uncertain of what he should do, fighting what he _wanted_ to do. 

A harsh knock on the open door broke whatever trance the two of them had found themselves in. 

A plump middle-aged woman entered. “’Ello, I’m Sophie. I’m here to do an ultrasound,” she informed them, completely obtuse about the moment she’d just interrupted. 

Sitting back into his chair, Ian awkwardly cleared his throat, and valiantly tried to calm his rapid heartbeat. Rose did her best to remain polite, even though she wanted to set the woman ablaze with one fiery look. Sophie brought the machine parallel with the hospital bed, and then walked over to the far wall and dimmed the lights. Lifting Rose’s gown, she applied the gel to her belly and pressed the probe to Rose’s skin. As she moved the probe over Rose’s abdomen, a strong steady rhythm filled the room. 

Ian felt every trace of air flee his lungs as the sound reached his ears. His eyes fixated on the screen in front of him, unable to quite make out the object. But then Sophie moved the probe, and the image became identifiable. His fingers sought Rose’s and they intertwined tightly as his mind registered the image. It was the baby. He was experiencing the proof of life that was safely growing inside Rose. A life that was—

“Everythin’ looks wonderful. Your son’s got a very strong heartbeat,” Sophie said happily as she continued to look at the screen.

“Our what?” Rose and Ian asked in unison.

The woman turned her face towards the pair, her eyes worried. “Oh my goodness! Ya didn’t know, did ya?” she asked fretfully. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think.”

“No,” Ian said softly, and without thinking. “No, it’s alright.” 

Rose turned to look at him. “We’re havin’ a boy,” she said with a wet giggle, unshed tears threatening to break forth.

Ian lost the ability to speak further, and simply nodded his head in agreement, tightening his grip on Rose’s hand. 

“Looks like somethin’s finally got the best of that gob of yours,” Rose giggled again, causing Ian to grin at her. 

Having finished with the scan, Sophie cleaned up Rose and gathered her equipment and left the room. 

“We’re gonna have a lil’ ‘you,’” Rose said, practically squealing this time as the tears from earlier finally broke loose and streaked down her cheeks. “All wild hair and incessant talking. Oh, my God…we’re having a boy! Can ya believe it?”

“No, I can’t,” Ian answered, his voice nearly overcome with unfamiliar emotion. He didn’t think it possible, but this situation was too surreal. He was in this life—a life he didn’t even how he’d obtained—with a wife and daughter, and now he’d just heard his unborn son’s heartbeat. Ian was so overwhelmed by the intensity of everything that he was filled with the desire to flee. Flee from all the longing it brought, all the good he didn’t deserve. The only thing anchoring him there, was the woman with whom it had all started—Rose. He found it impossible to leave her at the moment; it felt wrong. He looked over at her and the light and life radiating from her was nearly blinding. She held his gaze, and Ian felt himself move closer to her. Rose looked at him expectantly as he neared her, almost hopeful at his actions. But at the last minute, he realized what his traitorous body was attempting, and instead, lifted their joined hands upward, gently brushing his lips against her knuckles. 

Rose felt her breath catch at the gesture. Though Rose wished his lips had arrived at another destination, she was still affected. Because for one fleeting moment, she’d seen a trace of the man she loved. To be fair, she’d always seen him there. But what she’d caught a glimpse of that time, was the man whom she loved with every breath she took and with every fiber of her being, and who returned her ardor in full. He was there, lost somewhere within himself. She just had to help him find his way back to her.

Deciding to pursue that later, Rose asked, “Were Mum and Dad okay when they found out I was in hospital?”

Ian said nothing, but the look on his face said it all. 

“Ya didn’t tell them, did you?” When he shook his head, Rose continued, “Ya better call ‘em now, before they find out some other way.”

“Where’s your mobile?” Ian asked.

“Well, if my clothes are still here, then it’s in my back pocket like always.”

Ian stood up and looked through the hospital bag that the nurses had put Rose’s belongings in. He quickly located her mobile. Still pink, he noted with a smile. He walked back over and handed it to her. 

Rose crinkled her brow. “What’s wrong with yours?” 

“It…my passcode doesn’t work anymore. Hasn’t since I g-,” Ian caught himself, “since a few days back.”

“Huh...that’s odd. Have Jake or Mickey take a look at it when we get back. Bet they could fix it.” Rose quickly scrolled through her Favorites and placed the call. A few seconds later, she spoke into the phone, “Hey, Mum…”

Though Ian had no idea what Jackie was saying, he could gather that she wasn’t happy, based on the fact that Rose hadn’t been allowed to finish more than half of her sentences. She couldn’t have been on the phone more than five minutes before Rose asked to speak to her dad. It was only then that Rose was able to have a chance to explain the situation, and to Ian’s relief, she insisted that they remain at home instead of coming to see her. Finally, Rose ended the call and placed the mobile next to her. A few minutes later, Martha came back into the room. 

“Please tell me I can go home?” Rose begged.

“Normally I’d say ‘no,’ but since I know where you live and practically everybody in your life, I’m gonna go ahead and discharge you. But on one condition.”

“Which is what?” Rose asked hesitantly. She could tell by Martha’s stance that she wasn’t going to like what was coming. 

“I’m putting ya on bedrest.”

Rose blinked at her. “But I can still go to the shop for a few hours, yeah?”

Martha crossed her arms and looked pointedly at her. “Does it have a bed?”

“Obviously not,” Rose said, rolling her eyes.

“Then no, you can’t. I want you to rest as much as possible. Ya can go out here and there, but I want to keep your stress to a minimum. And work constitutes a stress.”

“Not lettin’ me work is a stress!” Rose insisted. “I’ve got almost four months left. I can’t keep away for that long.”

“Your shop will manage, Rose. You’re doing what Martha says,” Ian said decidedly, leaving no room for questioning.

Rose whipped her head towards him, her eyes fierce and ready to do battle. However, Ian was meeting her gaze with a steadfast one of his own. He was not backing down, no matter how angry she may be at him. Rose pursed her lips for a moment, before crossing her arms in somewhat of a pout. 

“Fine,” she grumbled, acquiescing for the time being. 

Ian raised an eyebrow appraisingly. Even though she had relented, Ian had a sense that this wasn’t the last Rose had to say on the subject. But for right now, he would take the illusion of her acceptance. 

****

An hour and a half later, Ian pulled in front of Pete and Jackie’s house to pick up Olivia. When he went to pull the car round for Rose, he’d snuck a peek through the GPS and thanked his stars that their address was saved in the memory. He didn’t think he could come up with a plausible excuse for not being able to successfully navigate his way there. With the car parked, Ian exited and walked over to the passenger side, opening the door and helping Rose out of the car. As they approached the door, Ian felt his anxiety grow over what his “in-laws’” reactions would be. He’d met Jackie twice, and based on that, Ian figured that the odds of him getting slapped were at least 50/50. As for Pete, he’d only met him the one time. However, Ian could still clearly recollect the intimidation he felt being in the man’s presence. It wasn’t an easy feat to make Ian feel such a way, so the fact that Pete had managed it with stunning precision made Ian feel very off kilter. Rose entered the code on the door’s keypad and walked in, Ian slowly and cautiously following her. 

“Hello?” Rose called out. 

A young boy with an unruly mop of strawberry blonde hair rushed into the foyer, carrying a box of chocolate biscuits. His small face broke into a brilliant smile on seeing both her and Ian. 

“Tony, does Mum know ya have those?” Rose asked as she smiled and gestured to the box. 

The little boy’s eyes widened and he gripped the box tighter, throwing his finger to his lips.

“Shhh!” he instructed, before running out of eyesight. 

“That would be a ‘no,’” Rose chuckled as went further into the house. 

Ian surmised that the boy must be the sibling Rose mentioned yesterday. Well, sort of mentioned. Either way, he was relieved to find out that it was only circumstance that had prevented him from seeing the boy and not something more. Following Rose into the living room, Ian saw Olivia sitting on the floor with that familiar blue banana. The little girl turned her head toward in their direction and beamed when she saw them, dropping the toy and crawling towards them. 

“There’s my precious girl,” Rose cooed as she attempted to stoop to pick her up. Jackie suddenly came into view and scooped up Livy, handing her to Rose. 

“Hello, sweetheart. Didn’t hear ya both come in,” she said, giving Rose a peck to the cheek. She then turned her eyes to Ian. He held his breath and waited for her reaction. Jackie’s eyes conveyed anger and immense irritation, but that was as far as it went. She silently opened and closed her mouth a few times before finally speaking to him.

“Pete’s upstairs. He wanted to talk to you when ya got here.” 

Rose was too preoccupied with Livy to notice Ian’s increasing discomfort; and if Jackie noticed, she either didn’t say or didn’t care at the moment. With one more deep breath, Ian turned and headed up the stairs. When he reached the top, Ian surveyed the doors before him. The first one he came to was partially open. He gently pushed the door further open, and saw Pete sitting behind his desk, his eyes focused on the computer screen in front of him. Pete must have sensed Ian’s approach, because he immediately looked up from the screen and directly at him. Pete’s eyebrows raised just slightly before the expression on his face became indiscernible. 

Ian nervously cleared his throat, chastising himself as he did so. He was Ian Smith, “the Destroyer,” able to hold his own against some of the worst scum of society and make them squirm; and here he was reduced to a jumble of nerves by a mere ‘father-in-law.’ 

“Jackie said you wanted to talk with me.”

Pete nodded and motioned for him to come in. Ian took a seat in one of the leather chairs as Pete came over and sat in the one next to him. Silence continued to pervade the room. The longer it continued, the more uncomfortable Ian felt. 

_For the love of God, just say something…_

Looking over at Ian, Pete began, “Y’know, I’ve always made sure to respect yours and Rose’s relationship. To not undermine you or make things difficult…even when I don’t agree with you. And with the exception of one or two times here and there, that’s been fairly easy to do…”

Ian held his breath, knowing that the proverbial “but” was imminent. 

“But to be honest, Ian, you’ve got me baffled.”

“Baffled? How so?”

Taking a breath, Pete answered, “Well, for starters, your behavior’s all over the place. It’s like night ‘n day from the man I know. Now, I haven’t seen much of this firsthand, except for that morning; but you knew joining this family meant word travelled like wildfire. And even then, I tried to keep myself from getting dragged into all that muck and losing my head. But when my daughter visits me, clearly in pain but tryin’ to hide her feelings, I know it’s time for me to say something.”

Ian could feel his body want to shift under Pete’s gaze and firm tone of voice, but he forced himself to remain calm and collected. 

“I…I don’t know what you’re expecting me to say, Pete.”

“Truthfully, I don’t know what I’m expecting either. What I do know is this—Rose is one of the strongest people I know, and it takes a lot for her to be affected like this. In fact, one of the few times I’ve seen her this way, was after that big blow up between you two. And I’ll tell you the same thing that I did back then—do not push away the one person who means more to you than anything else. Pushing someone away doesn’t prevent pain, it _causes_ it. You need her just as much as she needs you. Forgetting that just makes you both miserable.”

Ian was utterly taken aback by what had just been said to him, and was trying to allow it all to sink in. A large part of him had been expecting Pete to shout angry tirades at him, threats included. But this was the complete opposite of that. He wasn’t sure what response to give after hearing those words, but Ian went with the one that, for some reason, seemed the most fitting. 

Looking Pete directly in the eyes, he said, “Thank you.”

Pete gave him a soft yet warm smile. “Anytime.”

****

Later that night, Ian sat in bed, glasses on and reading the _Tale of Two Cities_ that he’d found several days ago. His concentration broke when Rose entered the room. Ian thought to greet her, but was silenced by how beautiful he found her in that moment. Her hair was loose and fell gracefully down her back and shoulders. She had long since changed into a pair of pajamas that, by intent or not, highlighted her growing stomach. He settled for a warm smile which Rose readily returned, albeit tiredly. 

“Livy went down quicker than I thought,” Rose said, yawning. 

“You should’ve let me take care of it. Martha said you needed rest and to avoid—“

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Putting a fourteen-month old to bed is not gonna put me back in hospital. I’m not an invalid, y’know.”

“No, just bloody stubborn,” Ian muttered as he turned his attention back to the book.

“What was that?” Rose asked, quirking an eyebrow, daring him to reiterate. 

“Nothing,” he replied without looking up. 

Before he realized it, Rose was by his side, practically snuggled up next to him. 

“Whatcha readin’?”

“Uh…,” Ian took several hard swallows, and forced himself to answer her. “ _A Tale of Two Cities_.”

“I love that one,” she said as she snuggled further into his side. “Read me a bit?”

Try as he might (and he tried valiantly), Ian couldn’t come up with a reason to refuse her. Clearing his throat, he found his place and began reading aloud:

_“Never did the sun go down with a brighter glory on the quiet corner in Soho, than one memorable evening when the Doctor and his daughter sat under the plane-tree together. Never did the moon rise with a milder radiance over great London, than on that night when it found them still seated under the tree, and shone upon their faces through its leaves…_

_…He embraced her, solemnly commended her to Heaven, and humbly thanked Heaven for having bestowed her on him…”_

On feeling a slight stir, Ian looked down and found Rose sleeping, her arm still wrapped possessively across his stomach. He simply sat there, taking in every delicate contour of her face. Quietly closing the book, he placed it on the bedside table and switched off the light. He slowly sank further under the covers, careful not to disturb Rose as he did so. His breathing quickly fell in tandem with Rose’s, and within minutes, Ian had drifted off.

****

_Wednesday, November 6, 2013_

Cathica Kadanie unlocked the door to Ian Smith’s office. Stooping, she picked up the lately delivered mail and began sorting through its contents. She swiftly determined what was insignificant and what warranted further attention. After five years, she had this routine down to an art. Coming to the final envelope, she paused on seeing the sender’s address. It was odd for her employer to receive mail from prisoners, especially in light of his unyielding and fierce reputation. For a moment, she was seriously tempted to discard the letter, but just then the office phone began to ring. Without another thought, Cathica hurriedly threw Harry Saxon’s letter onto the desk before rushing away to answer the phone. 


	11. The Ties That Break, The Ties That Bind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wednesday, November 6, 2013
> 
> We Remain--Christina Aguilera

Jack was decidedly having a horrid week. Not only had he been unable to secure a satisfactory outcome for his client, Adam Mitchell, but he'd had a particularly harsh confrontation with Ian. All of that was compounded by the fact that this Friday marked the six year anniversary of that day–the day that rocked their family's whole world, tearing at its very fabric.

The fractured relationship with Ian was never far from his mind, and Jack keenly felt the loss of his brother. True, they were not related by blood, but that was of no consequence. Almost immediately from the time Jack's mother had married Ian's father, they had been as close, if not closer, than most natural brothers. But the events of that day six years ago broke what was once an impenetrable bond. 

The lift doors parted and Jack exited, wearily making his way to his office. He only had a few more details to add before Adam's appeal would be complete. Entering his office, he took his usual place behind his mahogany desk, pulling out the necessary files to complete his task. Though he was there in body, Jack's mind was far from present. Despite his best efforts, he was unable to fully concentrate on the tasks ahead of him. A soft knock on his office door brought his thoughts to an abrupt halt, and he looked up to see who had approached. He saw his assistant, Tessa, holding a mug in one hand and an organizer in the other. She smiled brightly at him, a much needed reprieve from his dark mood. He returned her smile, though not as brilliant as per his usual, and motioned for her to enter.

The young brunette approached with the usual bounce to her step, stopping at the front of his desk. 

"Good morning, Mr. Harkness," she said cheerily as she handed him the mug of strong, steaming coffee made exactly to his preferences. Though barely twenty, Tessa was a consummate professional and took great pride in her work. She made sure to give the absolute best to the man who she felt had given her a chance when no one else would give her a second thought. 

Looking at her organizer, she began, "Your schedule is fairly open today. The Mitchell appeal is due by 8:00 A.M. tomorrow. I have a courier on call for when you’re ready to deliver it. Miss Poisson called again this morning to invite you to lunch," she immediately noticed Jack's irritated eye roll and continued, "but I informed her that you were unfortunately completely booked today and have no availabilities in the foreseeable future."

Jack's smile broadened. "Good girl."

Tessa beamed at his approval. "Ms. Jones asked me to remind you about the partners' meeting tomorrow and to not, in her words, 'come down with some ridiculous ailment this time.'"

Jack smirked at knowing his efforts to avoid the tedious monthly meetings did not go unnoticed. 

"Other than that, you have nothing on the books," she said with finality. 

"Thanks, Tessa."

She smiled and began to leave before suddenly turning back around. "Oh, almost forgot," she said and pulled out an envelope, handing it to Jack. "This came certified for you this morning. I didn't recognize the name."

Jack furrowed his brow in curiosity and took it from her. His eyes widened and then darkened at seeing the name and address. Tearing it open, he hastily ran his eyes over the contents.

"Son of a...," he growled lowly. Jolting upright, Jack threw on his coat and headed out the door. He briefly stopped and turned to Tessa, who was more than a little confused and worried that she had done something to anger Jack. 

"Tessa, call Judge Bentley and let him know that a family emergency came up and I won't have Adam's appeal ready till tomorrow evening. He’s pretty laidback so he'll understand. I'm unavailable for the rest of the day, understand?" 

"Yes'sir," she nodded.

With that, Jack hastily made his way to the lift. He had to see Ian...immediately.

****

Cathica glanced once again at the time displayed in the corner of the computer screen. Though she was in the midst of replying to the various emails and preparing a plethora of documents Ian assigned to her earlier that week, she wasn't too busy to notice the prolonged absence of her employer. Ian's behavior over the last several days had been erratic and completely out of character. Normally he was predictable, if not somewhat regimental, and did not tolerate anything less from those around him. So the fact that Ian was acting contrary to his own self-imposed rules threw Cathica for a loop, and she wasn't sure what her response should be. 

Her attention was suddenly captured by the main door practically being thrown open. To further her surprise, Cathica found herself face to face with Jack Harkness. She found her body completely arrested by the sight of him, feeling very uneasy with his sudden presence. 

Knowing Ian was not on friendly terms with his brother, she started to speak but was cut off by Jack.

"I need to see Ian _now_."

"You know you shouldn't be here. Mr. Smith doesn't–"

"Spare me the standard crap he has you ramble off. I'm _really_ _not_ in the mood for it," he spat irritably. "I don't care if he doesn't want to see me. He can throw all the hissy fits he wants, but I'm not leaving till I see my brother," he said determinedly as he went to open Ian's office door.

Cathica hurriedly stood up and rushed over to the door, stopping Jack before he could enter.

"He's not here,” she said firmly, frowning as she put her hand on the doorknob. “So you can leave now.”

Jack gave a tired sigh and took a step back, closing his eyes and rubbing his head in frustration. Cathica curiously took in his sudden change in stance. He seemed resigned, almost defeated. When he turned his eyes back to her, Cathica could see the weariness within him.

“Listen, Cath,” he said more gently. “I need to know if Ian got anything…strange…in the mail. Anything that seemed out of place.”

Though she seemed reluctant, Jack could tell that Cathica was trying to recall if there was anything. Her eyes widened ever so slightly as she remembered the letter she’d thrown onto Ian’s desk earlier that morning, but then she nervously diverted her gaze from Jack’s inquiring eyes. However, it was to no avail; Jack knew there was something she was holding back. 

“Cathica, I _need_ you to tell me what it was. Please.”

Finally looking up at him, she could see that his eyes were practically pleading for her compliance. With a nod of acquiescence, Cathica opened the door to Ian’s office and walked over to his desk. Quickly finding the letter, she kept ahold of it, still hesitant to hand it over Jack. She took a hard swallow and looked up at Jack. 

“Just…promise me that whatever it is you’re doing, it’s for the best. Ian Smith may be a colossal prat the majority of the time, but that doesn’t give you license to run him into the ground.”

“I swear to you, I would never do anything to hurt my brother. Everything I’ve ever done was to protect him. That’s what I’m doing now,” he said with the deepest sincerity, holding out his hand for the envelope. 

Jack’s words resonated as truth, and with a nod of acceptance, Cathica handed over the letter. Jack took it and his eyes darkened as he saw the familiar address. Taking a hard swallow, his features became stoic and he nodded his thanks, before turning around and promptly leaving. As he stepped into the hallway, he pulled out his mobile and dialed. He had a favor to call in. 

**** 

Jack agitatedly paced the cold, dingy room, taking long steadying breaths to calm his rapidly escalating anger. Normally the gray walls were of no consequence to him, not worth his attention, but the morose atmosphere was now glaringly obvious and furthered the darkness brewing within him. He was no stranger to the inside of a prison, having spent many a long day sitting with his clients and determining the best course of action to take for them. However, this was not one of those days.

The grating sound of turning metal door hinges caused Jack to stop mid-pace and turn briskly. A shackled and orange clad inmate was led into the room. His focus settled on Jack and his features morphed from neutral into a maniacal Cheshire grin. He stopped mid-step and allowed himself a moment to enjoy an eerie stare. The stoic guard jerked the prisoner back into motion, putting a strong hand on his shoulder and pushing the man roughly down onto the seat next to a metal table.

“Garrett says you’ve got fifteen minutes,” he addressed Jack. “I’ll be just outside.” 

Jack nodded his acknowledgement of the guard, but his features remained rigid and restrained. The guard turned around and gave the prisoner a critical and warning eye. 

“Don’t try anythin’, Saxon,” he instructed, pushing at his shoulder for emphasis. The guard exited the room, leaving the prisoner and Jack alone. 

The prisoner continued to maintain his manic grin, almost bouncing in his seat. “Jackson Harkness. Finally. What took you so long?”

Jack remained standing at a comfortable distance, grinding his teeth as he heard Saxon speak. It took every ounce of his willpower to maintain his composure, but Jack was determined to not give this creature the satisfaction of seeing him affected. 

“Well, I’ve been busy, Harry. What with having a life and all,” he replied with perfect nonchalance. “It’s amazing what you can do with all that _free_ time on your hands. Plus, I make it a point to never mingle with the Devil.”

“Free time, eh? Fresh air, blue skies, birdies singing...,” Harry said, shivering with disgust. “Highly overrated. And ‘Devil’ is a bit harsh, wouldn’t you say?”

“I think it’s a fairly tame description for what you are. I’m not sure that there are enough derogatory terms in the English language to adequately define you. Maybe any language,” Jack replied in a low, even tone.

Harry winced mockingly at him. “Ooh, such disdain. Shame since we all used to be so close. Speaking of ‘all,’ I can’t help but notice Ian isn’t here. I would’ve thought after my little note he—“ 

Harry stopped midsentence as he saw Jack’s jaw twitch. His eyes widened with realization, and his smirk broadened. “He never got it, did he? Oh, you naughty boy. Stealing a person’s mail is a crime, which you should be aware of,” his eyes darkened and turned cold as he continued, “Although, if you two were actually proficient at your job, I wouldn’t be in this lovely establishment, now would I?”

Jack’s eyes narrowed at Saxon’s accusatory tone. “You’re in here because you’re sick—in every sense of the word. It wouldn’t ‘ve mattered what we did—you were gonna end up in some cell with four padded walls and an endless cocktail of antipsychotics. We tried to help, but you were too far gone.”

Harry slammed his shackles onto the table, the harsh metallic clang resounding through the room. “Help? _Help?!_ ” he growled. “What _help_ are you referring to, huh? None of you ever tried to help me! You used all these pretty words but in the end they were just like you—worthless,” he spat.

Anger began to crawl its way to the surface, and Jack took a few menacing steps towards Saxon. 

“Don’t you _dare_ say we didn’t try to help you! Ian went out of his way, put himself on the line, and all for your sorry behind. No matter how much I tried to tell him otherwise, he was determined to do whatever he could for you. He worked himself to death trying to save your sorry hide. All because of that so-called _friendship_ you had. So don’t you even _dare_ look me in the eye and say that no one tried to help you!”

Harry jerked his hands towards Jack, but they were too closely shackled for any threat to be carried out. The cold metal against his wrists suddenly reminded Harry of his confinement. He looked down at his chains and began grinning. The grin quickly morphed into chuckling, and before Jack could properly blink, Saxon was cackling, his whole body shaking with the unrestrained laughter. Jack could only stare at him in disbelief, faint traces of pity evident in his eyes. 

Saxon finally looked up at Jack, his eyes otherworldly and his eerie grin still frozen on his face. He lifted his hands, displaying the shackles. 

“Not exactly gold cufflinks, are they?” he giggled at Jack. At Jack’s lack of response, Harry ran his cuffed hands over his head, ruffling his hair and adding to his wild persona. 

“What were we talking about?” Saxon asked, tilting his head to the side in thought. “Something, something…” His eyes suddenly became distant and troubled as he began fervently shaking his head. “Stop it,” he mumbled, beginning to rock back and forth. “Just…quiet!” he ordered the silence through gritted teeth, angrily raking his joined hands over his hair yet again. 

Pity began to crawl its way through Jack’s veins as he watched the disturbed man. Saxon’s shoulders slumped and he sighed in relief. 

“So…wh-…oh, yes! My letter, did you enjoy it? I worked so hard on it, trying to get every single detail down on paper. Although words aren’t quite enough…you really had to be there to appreciate the imagery.”

Saxon’s words snapped the carefully restrained fury within Jack. He snarled and lunged forward, grabbing Saxon by his jumpsuit and pinning him against the cold concrete wall, his arm perilously close to the madman’s neck.

“Do you know how easy it would be to break you right now?” Jack growled through gnashing teeth. “You sick piece of scum! You just can’t leave our family alone, can you? After everything you’ve done, can’t you just leave us in peace?!” 

“ _Peace!_ ” Harry spat back, matching Jack’s expression. “Peace, peace, peace. Everyone wants peace, but some of us don’t have such luxuries. Some of us have pain. Pain, pain, pain…nothing but pain. Always pain. Why should _I_ be the only one in pain? Gave me empty promises…no…gave me lies. Lies, always lies… nothing but lies. Well, we all have to pay for our sins, and the wages sin pays is death. I think it's good to have that reminder. Makes us learn from our mistakes, helps us grow to our potential. Don't you think so?"

" ** _Grow_**?" Jack growled. "And just how were we supposed to _'grow'_ after you gunned down our father? What _'mistake'_ could ever make killing him justifiable?"

Saxon locked his gaze with Jack's, his eyes cold and void of discernible humanity. "You lied to me, and lies have consequences. Consider it your life’s penance."

Jack moved his head back and stared incredulously at Saxon, shocked that the man could utter such things with firm conviction. His anger came back to the forefront and he leaned back in. "Well, you want truth? Here’s some truth for ya," Jack seethed, tightening his hold on Saxon to the point his knuckles were an unnatural shade of white. "You contact any member of my family, and prison will be the least of your worries. You hear me?” he questioned rhetorically. “Your existence is a plague and it sickens me that we breathe the same air. If I'd had my way, you woulda been out of our lives a long, _long_ time ago."

"But you didn't get your way, did you?" Saxon sneered. "Ian bears that responsibility, and don't think I forgot to remind him of such." 

Jack’s eyes flashed with protective fury, and he flung Saxon to floor as if he was a piece of refuse, causing him to stumble into the metal bench and land on his backside. 

"I meant what I said. Leave my family alone," he warned, his tone cool and calm. "Consider this your...reminder." 

With one final look of disdain, Jack walked over and banged on the metal door. The same burly guard from earlier opened the door for him. "Tell Garrett I said thanks," Jack instructed as he walked away, leaving a grinning Harry Saxon in a heap on the floor.

****

Mickey raked a nervous hand over his closely shorn hair, taking several deep breaths as he made his way through the crowded walkways toward the Bad Wolf Bakery. His nerves were raging and beginning to fray. Here he was, about to take the biggest, most important step in his life, and all he could think of was what could go wrong. Finally, Mickey reached the bakery but stopped before entering, nervously fiddling with the small box in his jacket pocket. Taking another deep breath, he hurriedly opened the door and walked in. Sally was behind the counter, as per usual, and smilingly helping an elderly woman. However, Rose was nowhere to be found. As the woman turned and left, Sally looked up and smiled warmly at Mickey. 

“Hey, Mickey. Whatcha in to?” 

“Oh, this and that,” came Mickey’s vague response. “Rose here?”

Sally grinned and with a small chuckle said, “Yeah, she’s in the back. Said she needed a moment with her ‘feelings.’”

Mickey snorted in amusement. “What is it this time? Java Chip? Fudge Ripple?”

Sally shook her head and laughed. “Nope, Rocky Road. Ya can go on back,” she said, motioning with her head. 

Mickey entered the back of the bakery, but paused in the doorway when he saw Rose. She was somehow sitting cross legged on a chair next to the center prep table where a jar of marshmallow sauce was sitting, a few streaks of the white stickiness trailing down its side. A pint of Rocky Road ice cream was in front of her, and she had a whipped cream can aimed at her mouth, ready to fire away. Before she could, she made eye contact with Mickey, his eyes full of barely contained amusement and a smirk inching its way up his face.

Rose furrowed her brow at him. "Don't judge me," she said before shooting a stream of whipped cream into her waiting mouth.

Unable to contain himself any longer, Mickey burst out laughing at her behavior. When he finally got himself together, he realized she was frowning at him. 

“What? I couldn’t help it. Y’look ridiculous,” he defended himself laughingly. 

“Listen,” Rose pointed her spoon at him, “I’ve had an unbelievably strange and stressful week. At least it’s a pint of ice cream and not bitter…although, I could do with one of those. Now, whatcha want?” she asked, putting another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. 

Mickey sobered as he remembered his reason for coming to see her, and he began to fidget nervously. Rose furrowed her brow again, this time inquisitively, as she watched him nervously fiddle with something inside his coat pocket. When he finally pulled out a small black box, Rose’s eyes widened and she dropped her spoon. She quickly put the carton of ice cream on the table next to her and rushed over to Mickey. 

“Oh, my God! Lemme see!” she squealed. 

He opened the box to reveal a gold band with a brilliant solitaire diamond centered between two more small diamonds. Rose’s eyes widened further and she clutched his arm. 

“Micks, it’s gorgeous!”

“Think she’ll like it?” he asked her nervously. 

“Like it? She’s gonna _love_ it!” 

“D-do…,” he slightly stuttered, “Do y’think she’ll say yes?” 

On hearing his question, Rose tore her eyes away from the ring to Mickey’s fretful face. Her eyes widened yet again.

“Oh, Micks…,” she began softly, before raising her hand and thumping him on the back of his skull. 

“Oi!” he shouted, rubbing his throbbing head. 

“Don’t be an idiot. Of course she’s gonna say yes. Why wouldn’t she?”

“Well, Martha’s amazing…she deserves so much more than m—“

His sentence was cut short by another head swat from Rose. 

“OI! Would you quit hittin’ me?”

“Well quit bein’ stupid!” Rose retorted. “You are just as brilliant in your own right. You two are completely gone for each other. Do y’know how lucky you are? To find someone who loves you like Martha does?”

“Y’think?” Mickey asked, still unsure.

Rose sighed at him exasperatedly. “Ya want another smack?”

“No! No, I’m good just,” he sighed, “…so nervous.”

Patting his back reassuringly, she said, “People go their whole lives lookin’ for what you two have. Lord knows I’ve never had that.”

Mickey bumped her playfully, grinning. “There’s always the personals.”

She rolled her eyes and shoved him before she went back to her now melting ice cream, dipping herself a heaping spoonful. 

“Oh c’mon, Rose. You’ll find a bloke.”

“Not bloody likely,” she scoffed at the notion, but couldn’t help that her thoughts immediately went to Ian. To his dark eyes, and brilliant but often hidden smile. To the way her body felt like she was holding onto a live wire every time their skin brushed against each other. Rose felt a stirring in the pit of her stomach and a smile began to tug at her lips. Right now she’d give anything to see him again, a sentiment which caught her surprise. 

The change in her demeanor was not lost on Mickey, and he smirked at her. “If that look means what I think it does, I’d say you’ve already found one.”

****

When Ian awoke that morning, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was lacking. As his surroundings began to clear from the haze of sleep, Ian realized that Rose was no longer lying next to him, her arm no longer there to lie protectively, almost possessively, over his chest. He was back in his original reality. For a long moment he just lied there, taking in his surroundings as he tried to acclimate himself back into this world. And for the first time, Ian began to find his environment cold, harsh, almost void of life. Completely the opposite from…

Thinking of that life, of waking up next to that enigmatic woman, made Ian smile brightly, something that he’d been doing more of since meeting Rose. What was it that had brought her into his life? Surely it could be because anything good _he’d_ done. Life wasn’t that kind to him. But what if it was? Could it really be possible to have that life? The man that all of them were making him out to be…Ian hadn’t seen that man in ages, and even then it was only a faint resemblance. But he remembered the fierceness to Rose’s words, how she insisted that he was worth fighting for, that he was worth everything. Even remembering the words caused Ian to become awestruck. That she could feel such a way about him, and that he felt… Ian quickly shook his mind free of such fanciful thoughts. He knew that it was dangerous to contemplate on such things as Rose and the life that he was supposedly living with her. It was a risk, and he reminded himself about the consequences of taking risks. 

By noon, Ian finally made it into the office. As he opened the door, Cathica looked up from her place at the file cabinet, obviously relieved at his arrival. 

“Sorry I’m late.”

Cathica’s head jerked back faintly at his words. Ian Smith had actually apologized to her. Five years and he’d never done such a thing, even when it had been glaringly obvious that he was in the wrong. She blinked several times in shock before realizing that she hadn’t responded to him. 

“Uh, no need to apologize, sir. I’m glad to see you’re alright,” she replied somewhat unsurely. 

“Anything happen while I wasn’t here?”

Cathica’s mind began to race, but her face remained completely neutral. 

“No, sir. Not a thing.”


	12. As The Walls Weaken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thursday, November 7, 2019
> 
> The song used in here was chosen by the fabulous Em Kay! However, don't blame her for the craziness I did with it!
> 
> Not With Haste--Mumford & Sons

Ian began to stir as his body teetered the balance between sleep and wakefulness. His senses were heightened just enough to where he could instantly identify the room without ever opening his eyes. The warmth, the feel, the smell—they all held the familiar and comfortable essence of Rose. With these sensations surrounding him, Ian turned onto his side and extended his arm almost instinctively. Yet instead of the warm, soft presence of Rose’s body, his hand grazed only empty sheets. Her absence caused Ian’s eyes to suddenly open. He looked at the empty spot where his hand was still resting. The sheets were still warm, so clearly she couldn’t have been gone long. A sudden, muffled sound from the front of the room caught Ian’s attention, and he instantly turned towards it. The sun had yet to fully rise, but there was still enough light to distinguish Rose’s slowly moving figure.

Propping himself up on his elbow, Ian called out to her. “Rose?” 

On hearing his voice, Rose immediately came to a halt and looked over at him. Even in the darkened room, Ian could tell that she was surprised to see him awake. He took in her appearance, trying to piece together what was going on. She was no longer in her nightclothes, but was instead wearing an oversized jumper and what appeared to be jeans. Her hair was piled high on top of her head in a messy bun, a jacket over her arm, and a pair of shoes in her hand. The silence persisted as they continued to stare at each other, both of them motionless. 

The prolonged standstill finally got to Ian and he broke the silence. “Rose, what are you doing up so early, completely dressed at that?” he asked, his voice strained due to unfinished sleep. 

“Um…” 

Rose lifted her hand to fiddle with a loose strand of her hair, causing her jacket to slip off her arm and onto the floor. Her eyes flickered from the jacket on the floor and then back to Ian. 

“I was gonna…,” she fumbled, obviously not knowing what to say at unexpectedly being caught. 

Something clicked in Ian’s mind and he sat up straight, looking at her intently. “You’re not trying to sneak off to work, are you?”

Rose began to worry her bottom lip at hearing his question, her eyes flicking from Ian to the door, almost in a calculating fashion.

“Rose?” he asked pointedly, all traces of tiredness now vanished.

“I’m only gonna be gone for a few hours,” she said, inching her way to the bedroom door, her eyes never leaving his. “I’m just gonna put out a few things, maybe make a few runs. That’s it.”

“Rose. No. You’re on bedrest. No work.”

“Three, five hours tops.” She was nearly at the door.

Ian narrowed his eyes at her noncompliance. “Rose. Bed. Now.”

“Back in a bit,” she called out before rushing out the door. 

Like a shot, Ian was out of the bed and chasing after her, his feet not even registering the cold wooden floor. Despite being more than five months gone, Rose was surprisingly fast. He made it down the stairs and to the entryway just as Rose was attempting to shove her feet into her shoes. Hearing his approach, she turned to face him, her eyes wide with surprise and slight panic at his arrival, but she quickly put those two emotions aside.

“C’mon…,” she said with a flirty grin. “Just lemme go for a bit.”

“No.”

“Two hours?”

Ian rolled his eyes. “This isn’t a negotiation, Rose. You are _not_ going to work.”

Rose pursed her lips and looked away in thought. In almost an instant, she turned her eyes back to meet his, and Ian could see something had altered within her. She quirked an eyebrow and strode slowly, yet meaningfully towards him. Stopping just a hair’s breadth away, Rose lifted a finger and began slowly and playfully drawing random shapes against his thin undershirt. Ian felt his heartbeat intensify and he swallowed harshly as she looked up at him through her dark lashes. 

“ _Please_ , Cillian,” she practically purred. 

Ian gazed at her, completely entranced by her actions, by the round and around motion of that delicate finger against his thinly covered skin. But then, suddenly, it was as if something clicked into place, and he grinned at her.

“Oh, you’re good.”

Rose continued to playfully trace his chest, beaming up at him. “So I’ve been told.”

She turned to go, completely self-assured that she’d been victorious in her endeavors. However, Ian grabbed her wrist before she got out of reach. 

“Yeah, I don’t think so. Don’t get me wrong, masterfully played, but it’s not gonna work.”

“This is ridiculous,” Rose grumbled. “I’m going, and that’s that. Nothin’ ya can do to stop me.”

“Wanna bet?” Ian countered, and in one swift movement, he pulled her to him and put an arm under her knees, lifting her up. Though she wiggled and attempted to extricate herself, Ian was highly motivated, and therefore easily overcame her attempts at escape. 

“Cillian Andrew Smith, I am _so not_ amused. Put me down, _now_!” Rose demanded, although she was rather pleased to be in his arms, even if it was not exactly the way she truly wanted. 

“Nope,” he replied, popping the ‘p’ playfully. He carried her up the stairs and into their room, depositing her on the bed and causing her to bounce just a tad. “Now, you’re gonna stay in this house. No arguments. You may be one of the most stubborn people I’ve ever known, but it’s not going to work with me. Even if you keep doing that…thing…,” he trailed off and rubbing his hand against his chest, the tips of his ears pinking as he remembered Rose’s earlier ministrations. 

“Thing? What thing?” Rose said playfully, feigning complete innocence and giving him his smile. 

“Oh, you know what thing.”

“Hmm,” Rose tilted her head to the side as if in thought. “No, can’t say I do. Care to refresh my memory?”

Ian surprised himself by thinking about how he really _would_ like to refresh her memory, but he pummeled his mind to move away from such thoughts. He cleared his throat and decided to change the subject as quickly as possible. 

“You should, uh, get some rest. It’s still rather early.”

Rose scooted off the bed and stood in front of him, wrapping her arms around his neck and twirling the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“Or…I could do this,” she said softly, tilting her head upward and capturing his lips with hers. 

Ian’s frame instantly stiffened at the unexpected gesture. His mind screamed at him to refrain from responding in kind, to not give in to the fantasy that was this life. But as Rose’s soft lips moved languidly, if not somewhat reverently over his, Ian felt those screams begin to subside. As the sounds became almost completely mute, he found himself relaxing into Rose’s embrace and affection as his hands gently moved to her waist, almost as if it was second nature. He could feel himself almost surrender fully to that moment and begin to reciprocate; but that surrender was unceremoniously halted as Olivia’s cries sounded from her room. Immediately called to his senses, Ian quickly pulled himself away from Rose. 

“I-I should go…go check on her,” he stutteringly excused himself before hurrying off to see to the little girl.

****

Rose watched Ian scurry away and sighed in frustration at her disappointed hopes. She just wanted her husband back—all of him. For one fleeting moment, Rose had sensed that he was once again with her in entirety, and that feeling was like a soothing caress to her soul. She missed him. Missed his touch. Missed his affection. Those absences literally made her heart ache. And then when he had pulled away from her, Rose had seen that old familiar guard in his eyes once more. It was maddening, quite frankly. The only thing that prevented her from going over the edge was the fact that the she could see that that guard was weakening. Whatever it was that was holding Ian back, it was quickly fading, and that insight helped to ease her disappointment from infuriating to manageable. With one more sigh, Rose grabbed some less raggedy clothes and headed to the en suite, thinking a nice hot shower sounded heavenly. 

****

As Ian’s hand rested on the doorknob to Olivia’s room, he closed his eyes and released a haggard breath. What was _wrong_ with him? He knew, he _knew_ better than to allow himself to fall into the illusion of this world. True, he’d decided to do what was necessary to navigate his way through this reality. But was it necessary to fa-… the way he was…feeling…was that _really_ necessary? 

Livy’s persistent cries pulled him away from contemplating further, and with a small shake of his head, Ian cleared his thoughts and entered the room. He had a strong sense of déjà vu as he saw the little one standing with her hands tightly grasping the crib rails, tears running down her soft, round cheeks. On seeing him, Livy called out to him just as before. 

“Da!”

This time Ian approached her with very little trepidation and gathered her into his arms, swaying back and forth gently. 

“Hey now. Why are you crying, little one? Huh? If anyone should be crying, it should be me. At least you know where you are, and belong here. Me, I don’t understand any of this.”

Olivia continued to cry, though not as strongly as before, small hiccups interrupting infrequently. Ian looked down at her and into her mirroring chocolate eyes. 

“All right. Apparently that’s not helping. So what exactly do you want? Anything you want, it’s yours. Weelll, anything but that idiotic yellow sponge thing. I don’t care what Jackie says, it’s ridiculous and I’m not letting any offspring of mine watch that stupid creature. Why exactly do you like it anyway? I don’t see the appeal. You’re far too intelligent to fall prey to such nonsense.”

Olivia’s cries faded and she regarded him curiously as he spoke.

He grinned at her. “Ah, so you like the rambling bit? Good to know.”

Livy squealed in delight. “Da. Dee. Da. Dee,” she punctuated with playful smacks to his cheeks. 

Ian chuckled but winced as one of her small fingers poked him in the eye. He gently grabbed her hand and moved it away from his face, placing a small kiss to it. “How about I keep my eyesight, what do ya say, sweetheart?” 

Squealing again, Livy lurched forward and placed a sloppy wet kiss to his cheek. Ian smiled brightly at her and kissed her forehead. With that act of endearment, Ian suddenly realized that this little girl had surprisingly made her way into his heart. What was more surprising was that he was not unhappy about it in the least. Seeing her dark brown eyes shine at him made his heart surge with warmth, and he placed another lingering kiss to her forehead. 

Livy pointed a little finger towards the door. “Mummy.”

Ian looked to the door and took a hard swallow, thinking about said “Mummy.” He turned his eyes back to Olivia. 

“Are you sure? Mummy and I are…we ha-…I…weelll…I’m not sure what I’m trying to say. But honestly, are you absolutely sure you need Mummy right now? How about after we—“

“Mummy. Mummy! Mummy!” Olivia insisted, continuing to point towards the door.

He sighed. “Fine, fine, fine. Let’s go.” 

Ian padded down the hall, unsure what would happen once he and Olivia made it to Rose. His mind kept going back to the memory of Rose’s lips against his, his hands at her waist. He couldn’t stop the rapidness of his heartbeat as he relived that kiss and all the emotions it brought with it. As he walked through the open door, Ian heard a soft melodious sound stemming from the en suite. The closer he got, the clearer the sound became, and he could hear Rose singing a familiar song. He braced himself against the doorframe and allowed the words and notes to wash over him. 

_Sun lights up the day time_

_Moon lights up the night_

_I light up when you call my name_

_And you know I'm gonna treat you right_

There was no denying Rose had a beautiful voice, and Ian couldn’t help but be entranced as he listened to her.

_Ian Smith and Rose Tyler_

_Had a very mad affair_

_When her mum tried to kill him_

_She said, "Mum oh don't you dare"_

The unfamiliar lyrics threw Ian, and he couldn’t help but laugh at the changes Rose had made. As he was laughing, the shower curtain was pulled back a tad and Rose stuck her head out and teasingly glowered at him. 

“Somethin’ funny?”

Ian calmed his laughter and said, still chuckling, “I don’t seem to remember that particular verse.”

“Shame,” she grinned, “It happens to be my favorite. So did you two just come in here to have a laugh, or did ya actually need somethin’?”

Motioning towards Livy with his head, Ian said, “Our child was insistent on seeing you.”

“Was she now?” Rose asked with a smile.

“Oh yes. Wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. Practically manhandled me to get here.”

Rose grinned, partly from amusement and partly because this was more like the man she loved and adored. 

“Mummy!” Livy called out, extending her arms and leaning towards her mother. 

“Hey there, sweet pea,” Rose cooed at her, before addressing her husband. “Well, as ya can see, I’m sorta busy; so looks like you two are just gonna have to be patient. Go amuse yourselves and let me finish up,” she said, sliding the shower curtain back in place.

“But…”

The curtain flung back again, and Rose narrowed her gaze while arching an eyebrow, almost as if she was daring him to argue with her. Ian rethought his course of action and quickly closed his mouth, simply giving a short nod in response. It took a moment or two before Ian realized that he was remaining rooted to his spot, his eyes staring intently at her beautiful face, entranced by the light catching the water droplets against her skin. Rose noticed it, too, and couldn’t help the cheeky grin that appeared on her face. Ian could feel a heat creep up his neck and he quickly turned and left without another word. Rose watched him as he bashfully left, smiling brightly at his affected manner. With one more thoughtful look, she closed the shower curtain and continued her song.

****

While Rose was finishing her shower, Ian focused his attention on taking care of Olivia, doing so not only out of true want, but also so his thoughts would be preoccupied with something other than Rose. Try as he did, it was a virtual impossibility to keep his mind from wandering to her. She was getting to him, seeping into his veins, and becoming a fundamental part of his being. He didn’t know how to stop it without being cruel to her. Pushing her away would be not only a punishment to her, but surprisingly to him as well. But he couldn’t do this…he just _couldn’t_. This life…it might _feel_ real, but the logical part of his mind continued to remind him that it wasn’t—that it was impossible, that _she_ was impossible. 

But the raw emotion that Rose showered him with was the most unique, exhilarating sensation that he’d ever felt in his life. He’d never felt as alive as he did when she looked at him, when he saw her blinding smile or the pure love that radiated from her. But he was damaged, was broken. He didn’t deserve this after all the pain he’d caused and mistakes that he’d made—didn’t deserve her or the feelings being near her elicited within him. 

“Knew you two could manage.”

Ian turned around and looked up from his seat on the floor to see Rose standing there. He appreciatively took in her appearance. She was dressed in jeans, a somewhat formfitting white jumper, and the same oversized sweater from his first morning there. Her hair was down, draping her shoulders, and she had minimal makeup, just enough to highlight her eyes which were warm and sparkling as they focused on him. Ian’s breath hitched and he couldn’t help but think about how she was utterly beautiful. Realizing that he had yet to answer her, Ian forced himself to stop such musings.

He cleared his throat of the emotion that had surprisingly crept over him. “For the most part.”

Rose walked over and stood directly beside him. “Ya hungry?” she asked, carding her fingers affectionately through his hair. 

Ian merely nodded in reply, still trying to fight off the emotions building within him. 

“M’kay. I’ll go make something.” Pressing a quick kiss to his head, Rose headed to the kitchen. 

Ian watched her go and closed his eyes once she was out of view, letting out a ragged breath. This was becoming much too difficult, and he wasn’t sure how much more he could take before he broke completely.

****

Rose reclined across the couch reading while Olivia divided her time between playing and watching the telly. Ian had gone upstairs to shower and change for the day, leaving her to her own devices. Though Rose was not particularly pleased with the fact she was confined indoors, she became reconciled to it when Ian had decided to forego work and stay with her. This would be the first time in days that they actually spent a length of time together, and Rose readily welcomed that opportunity. It hadn’t slipped her notice that during breakfast, Ian would sneak glances at her as she fed Livy. She knew he thought she was unaware of it, but Rose knew the feel of Ian’s eyes on her far too well. The cause of his distance still perplexed her, but the fact that it was fading was comforting.

The sound of a knock and prompt opening of the front door startled Rose. She quickly stood and walked to the entryway just as Jack was closing the door and hanging up his coat. He turned, and on seeing his face, Rose broke into a bright smile. However, Jack looked somewhat perturbed and crossed his arms, giving her an admonishing gaze. Her smile faltered at his expression, and her brow furrowed in confusion.

“What’s wrong?” she worriedly inquired. 

“What’s wrong is that I just now found out that my sister-in-law passed out and spent the night in the hospital. And I had to hear about it through the Tyler-Smith-Noble-Sparrow-Simmonds grapevine. Do you see how I might be just a _little_ put out by that?”

Rose winced as guilt washed over her for causing him worry. “If it makes ya feel any better, we didn’t call anyone when it happened.”

“Oh, well, that just makes it _so_ much better. Let’s just keep everybody outta the loop,” Jack said with an eye roll. 

Rose frowned at him and crossed her arms. “All right, Jack, I get it. You’re angry. I was stupid, and made a mistake. But I don’t need you to make me feel any worse than I already bloody well do,” she replied hotly and walked away from him. 

“Rose,” Jack called after her, but she ignored him. With a sigh, he followed after her. He found her on the sofa and furiously changing the channels on the telly, and steadfastly refusing to acknowledge his presence. 

He sighed wearily and sat beside her. “I’m sorry for acting like a jerk.” 

Rose briefly stopped clicking the remote and flitted her eyes to his face before turning her attention back to the telly. 

“C’mon, Rosie. Ya can’t fault me for being worried ‘bout you.”

“Yeah, well, ya didn’t have to be a tosser ‘bout it,” she said without diverting her attention away from the telly. 

“Fair enough,” Jack relented. “Y’know how I get when I get worried, but I _am_ sorry for how I sounded.”

Rose finally focused on Jack and smiled forgivingly at him. “I’m just so bloody tired of everybody acting like I’m some piece of glass.”

“It’s just because we love you.”

“Well it’s bloody annoying,” she grumbled. 

“You’re such a drama queen,” Jack teased. 

“Oh shut it,” Rose grinned at him while she pushed at his leg with her foot. 

Jack smiled back, but then all of a sudden, his manner changed, turning serious and somewhat pensive. “So… where’s Ian?”

“Upstairs in the shower. He should be done soon.” Rose noticed Jack’s change in demeanor and frowned in confusion. “Why? What’s goin’ on?”

Sighing, Jack rubbed the back of his neck. “Not sure. He’s just acting different…kinda like he used to be—all angry and hardheaded.”

Rose tucked her hair behind her ear, but remained silent. Honestly, what could she say? She had no answers for herself, what explanation could she possibly give him? Fortunately, Jack seemed to not want to pursue the subject, because he turned to her and grinned. 

“Anyway, I’ve been meaning to talk to you. Your friend is driving me completely crazy.”

“Trouble in paradise for you and Mickey? Maybe you should try counseling,” she laughingly teased.

Picking up the small pillow next to him, he swatted her. 

“Ha. Ha. You’re a riot. You know who I’m talking about.”

“I’m tellin’ you, ya gotta be patient. Donna’s amazing but she’s got some things she struggles with, plus she’s dated some blokes who turned out to be total wankers. So even though she fancies you, she’s being cautious.”

“She fancies me?” Jack grinned, his blue eyes sparkling. 

“What are you blind? She’s practically mooning when she thinks you’re not watchin’, just like you stand there drooling when she’s got her back turned.”

Jack waggled his eyebrows. “Can’t help it. She got a _great_ back. Not to mention her front is—“

“Oi!” Rose shrieked, shoving Jack’s leg again. “That’s my best friend you’re talkin’ ‘bout. I don’t need to hear your commentary on her _assets_.”

Jack laughed heartily at her reaction. Just then, Ian made his way into the living room and his eyes locked with Jack’s. In that instant, Ian felt a multitude of emotions war within him, but the one that was predominate was guilt. He couldn’t help but think about the last time he’d seen Jack and the horrid blunder he’d made regarding Trish Webber. Jack’s countenance sobered, yet refrained from becoming harsh. Clearing his throat, he stood and placed a quick kiss to the top of Rose’s head. 

“I better get going, Rosie. Lots to do today. If you need anything, lemme know, ‘kay?” 

Rose smiled warmly at him. “Thanks, Jack.” 

He turned around and looked down at his niece. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten ‘bout you, cutie,” he said as he swooped Livy into his arms and blew raspberries on her stomach, causing her to giggle uncontrollably. He chuckled at her giddiness and placed her back in the midst of her toys. 

Turning back to Ian, he offered a small smile and said, “Harriet said to take as long as you need with Rose. She assigned Ryan to cover your caseload. He’s sharp, so no need to worry on that count.”

“Thanks.”

There was an awkward pause before Jack finally spoke. “Well, I’ll see ya guys later.”

As Jack passed by him, Ian closed his eyes as the guilt within him intensified. Unable to stop himself, Ian turned and headed after his brother. Jack was nearly at his car when Ian called out to him. 

Ian walked over to him, clearly nervous and unsure of himself and how to proceed in his current situation. An awkward silence pervaded as Jack regarded Ian curiously, waiting for him to speak. Ian on the other hand, had a difficult time looking at Jack, and instead, seemed to focus on anything but him. 

“Was there something you needed, Ian?”

“I, uh…,” Ian cleared his throat as he worked up his nerve, “I wanted to…to apologize for how I acted the other day. I was…I was wrong and I-I’m…I’m sorry.”

As he finished, Ian finally looked at Jack, meeting his searching eyes. He could see Jack’s eyes lose some of their hardness as he smiled at his brother. 

“'Preciate that. I really do. You still need to fix things with Trish. But as far as you and me go, we’re good.”

Ian furrowed and released his brow, almost as if he wasn’t expecting that response. 

“We are?” he inquired without thought. Ian didn’t even know where that question had come from, but once it was asked, he found himself anxiously awaiting the answer.

Jack gave him a somewhat incredulous look as he said, “Of course we are. We’re brothers. Nothin’ you could ever do will change that. Nothing.”

Ian was taken aback by the sincerity of Jack’s words, and took a deep swallow to clear the lump in his throat. Years of isolation and guilt battled against the warmth and acceptance of Jack’s words. Offering nothing but a silent nod and faint smile in acknowledgement, Ian turned and walked back to the house. 

****

It was near one in the afternoon, and Ian was left alone to amuse himself. About an hour earlier, Rose had taken Olivia upstairs for a lie down which had resulted in both girls conking out on Rose and Ian’s bed. When Rose hadn’t come downstairs after quite a while, Ian had gone upstairs to make sure that everything was all right. He’d passed by their bedroom door and immediately halted. Rose was sleeping soundly, her arm extended and little Livy curled into her. Their breathing was steady and rhythmic—where one inhaled, the other exhaled. The sun cast soft golden rays across their slumbering figures, encompassing them in an almost ethereal halo. Seeing them laying there, the epitome of perfect tranquility, Ian felt the air in his lungs dissipate. It was quite possibly the most beautiful thing he’d ever witnessed in his life, and for one lingering moment, Ian wanted nothing more than to remain there in that life. With his child and his…

Clearing his throat and stopping his mind from contemplating such fanciful thoughts further, Ian closed the door and descended the stairs. It didn’t escape his notice that he was able to navigate through the house with ease and no confusion. Going into the kitchen, he put on the kettle and began to prepare a cup of tea. The kettle had just begun to whistle when he heard someone approach. Turning around he was startled to see Donna standing there, hand on her hip and looking irritated. 

“Does nobody in this family ring the bloody bell?” Ian grumbled. 

“Bells are for strangers. But don’t try to change the subject on me, stick boy,” she snapped, pointing an angry finger at him.

Ian looked at her wide-eyed in confusion. “We weren’t talking about anything. How can I possibly change the subject when we weren’t talking? You just barge in here and then start snapping at me.”

“You bloody well know what I’m talkin’ about. Rose ends up in hospital and you tell _no one_!”

“Y’know what?” Ian countered angrily and ran a hand through his hair, “I’m getting a little sick and tired of everybody demanding to know why they weren’t called. Excuse me for rushing to get Rose to the hospital and not stopping to make a call. Forgive me for focusing on what was going on with her before I thought about anyone else. How _bloody_ thoughtless of me for not putting _everybody_ _else’s_ needs before hers. Thank you, Donna. Thank you for helping me to realize what my priorities should be!”

Haggard breaths rose from Ian’s chest and he felt his face flushed with anger. Donna stood silently before him, watching as he tried to calm himself. Ian could see the anger in her eyes give way and they became glassy. She turned her head away and sniffed. Seeing her so affected tugged on Ian’s conscience and he dropped his head down, taking another calming breath. 

“I’m sorry.”

Donna wordlessly walked over to the small table and sat down, resting her head against her hand. 

“I feel guilty, all right?”

Ian’s head snapped up at that, and he focused intently on her. “What do you mean? Guilty about what?”

Wiping her eyes, Donna turned and looked at him. “Guilty because I knew somethin’ was up and I didn’t force her to do anythin’ ‘bout it. I should’ve talked to you ‘bout how she was feeling. I didn’t know much, but what I did know worried me but I kept my bleedin’ gob shut.”

“It’s not your fault, Donna,” Ian sighed wearily. 

She shook her head; whether it was out of disagreement or something else, Ian couldn’t tell. 

“I’d never forgive myself if somethin’ happened to her. She’s the closest thing I have to a sister and I feel like I let her down.”

Ian walked over and took a seat next to her. “You didn’t let her down. If anything, I should’ve noticed something was wrong. But my mind was too preoccupied with…other things…to pay attention.”

“Thanks,” Donna said with a small smile. 

“Careful now,” Ian grinned. “Keep acting nice and I might start to think you like me.”

Donna snorted at him. “Fat chance of that, Stick,” she teased. 

****

After learning that Rose was asleep, Donna stayed long enough for a cup of tea and then promptly left. Even though they’d only spent all of fifteen minutes together, Ian couldn’t help but feel more amicable towards Donna. Her love and loyalty were blatantly obvious—especially for Rose. With that knowledge, Ian couldn’t help but put her in higher regard. Sure, she could be a little shrill, but Ian was beginning to suspect that was, in part, a defense. After all, he had experience with putting guards up. 

After about another hour, Rose came down with Livy in tow. As per her usual, Livy wanted to be placed in the mound of toys on the floor. After putting her down, Rose turned and saw Ian smiling at her from his place on the sofa.

“Sleep good?” 

“Mm-hmm,” Rose said while stretching. She then playfully plopped down on his lap, causing him to grunt from the sudden impact. 

“You should really warn someone before attempting to crush them.”

“Oi!” she shrieked, poking his chest. “Ya implying that I’m crushing you? That I’m _fat_?”

“W-what?” Ian squeaked, his eyes bulging. “N-no…I would ne—“

Rose burst into hysterics at his floundering. “Oh my God…your face…too good.”

At realizing she was jesting at his expense, Ian glared playfully at her. “Oh, y’think that’s funny, do you?” he asked as he poked her in the side, which immediately caused Rose to squeal and squirm.

On seeing her reaction, Ian’s eyes lit up with mischief. Rose’s eyes widened as she realized what he was planning. 

“Don’t…Ian, no! I-I’m pregnant,” she said in weak protest. 

“Which means you can’t get away quickly,” he grinned and then began tickling her sides. Rose began to laugh uncontrollably. 

“Stop…please…stop!” she pleaded breathlessly through her giggles. 

Ian chuckled but finally eased up, continuing to smile at her as she buried her head into his chest, still giggling. She finally looked up at him, her smile brilliant and her eyes shining at him. A strand of hair fell in her face, and without a second thought, Ian brushed it away, tucking it behind her ear. Rose felt her breath hitch at the familiar and sorely missed gesture. His eyes flitted toward her lips and then back at her eyes. Rose leaned in closer to him, but something out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. She jerked her head forward and hurriedly put a hand on his chest.

“Walking.”

“What?” Ian confused and disoriented from what had been about to transpire.

Rose furiously patted his chest. “Walking. She’s walking!”

Ian turned his eyes to where Rose was focused and watched as Olivia moved about the floor, some steps wobbly but most of them sure and steady. She turned towards her parents and smiled before quickly walking over to them, squealing in delight when Ian scooped her up. 

“Look at you, you brilliant girl!” he cheered as he placed an excited kiss to her forehead.

Rose watched with misted eyes as her husband fawned over Olivia and her milestone, reiterating to her over and over again that she was the most brilliant little girl in the universe. As he did so, Rose couldn’t help the beaming smile that overtook her features as she watched more of the man she loved emerge. 

****

The evening passed rapidly and when it was finally night, Ian trudged up the stairs. Rose had gone to bed right after putting Olivia down for the night, clearly exhausted, though she wouldn’t admit to it. Ian quickly and quietly changed, sliding onto his side of the bed. As soon as he pulled the duvet over himself, Rose moved over towards him, snuggling into his side. For a moment, he remained frozen, unsure of what he should do. Then, very slowly, he wrapped his arm around her and closed his eyes, softly smiling and sighing in what could only be called contentment. 

****

Rose felt Ian’s arm encircle her, and in the darkness, she smiled. 


	13. Little Talks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thursday, November 7, 2013
> 
> Say (All I Need)--OneRepublic

Bright rays of sunlight beamed between the gaps in the dark curtains, casting their light directly into Rose’s face. She groaned and rolled onto her other side, eager for darkness so she could continue her slumber. It was Thursday, and Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Sundays were _her_ days. The bakery was closed and she could sleep to her heart’s content. She had just settled back into her pillow and felt her body drifting back into a deep sleep, when her door was unceremoniously opened, allowing the hallway light to stream in and onto her face. 

Rose groaned and buried her face into her pillow. “Wha’ do y’want, Mar? Whatever it is, the answer’s no.” 

“Martha’s gone. It’s me.”

Rose lifted her head off the pillow and squinted at the person before her. Donna was leaning against the doorframe, sipping what smelled like coffee from Rose’s blue callbox mug. 

“Donna…it’s Thursday. Wha’ have I said ‘bout Thursdays…or for that matter, _any_ day I’m off?” she said, her voice garbled from sleep. 

“You said to not wake you up early. But it’s after ten, so I think it’s safe to say we’ve officially passed early.”

At Donna’s mentioning of the time, Rose reached over to her nightstand, fumbled for her mobile, and peered at the time through strands of blonde hair that had fallen in her face. Even though it was indeed after ten, Rose groaned and threw her face back into her pillow, taking the one next to her and putting it on top of her head, effectively sandwiching herself. Donna snorted and walked over to her, nudging the bed with her side.

“Budge over.”

Rose muttered something indecipherable into the pillow, and made absolutely no effort to move. Donna nudged the bed again, and Rose swatted irritably at her.

“Just go on the other side, you bum!” Rose grumbled, this time clearly. 

“Oi! Don’t get all snippy with me, Blondie,” Donna said, settling beside Rose on the bed, leaning against the headboard and sipping her coffee contently. 

Rose poked her head through her pillows, barely allowing her face to be visible. 

“How many times have you squawked at me for somethin’ or another? Just lemme sleeeeep…,” she whined, and wiggled herself further into the bed. 

Donna took another sip of her coffee, completely unaffected by the mild tantrum. “Rose, remember what today is?”

Poking her head out again, Rose somewhat glared at Donna while still giving thought to her question. Suddenly her eyes widened as she realized to what Donna was referring, and she loudly groaned into her pillow.

On seeing that the penny had dropped, Donna snorted, “And there it is.”

Rose flung the pillow that was on top of her head onto the floor, and rolled onto her back. “Craaaaap! I totally forgot about their party. And I’m makin’ the bloody cake.”

“That’s right, so hop to it. I’ll give ya a ride,” Donna ordered, pushing Rose’s side with her free hand. “I’m closing the restaurant probably ‘round four so we can have it ready by six. Think you’ll be ready by then?”

“Yeah…”

They both continued to remain in bed, neither making any move to leave.

Donna took a deep, dramatic sigh. “You do realize that that requires you gettin’ out bed, yeah?” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know…,” Rose said, sighing one last time before dragging herself out of her warm bed. 

Rubbing her eyes, she turned around and looked Donna, motioning to the mug. “There more of that?”

Donna took another sip and nodded. “Left some in the pot. Didn’t know how long it’d take to get your bum outta bed, and I didn’t think you’d want it cold.”

“Ta,” Rose said groggily, running a hand through her tousled hair. Yawning deeply and stretching her limbs, Rose turned and trudged out of the room and towards the shower. Hopefully, that would help her not feel like the walking dead.

****

Roughly four hours later, Rose was in the bakery’s kitchen and taking the various needed ingredients for the buttercream frosting off the shelves while waiting for the cake layers to finish. She had meant to make the preparations yesterday, but she had been too preoccupied in her own thoughts to get any real work done. Seeing Mickey and Martha’s happiness, how much they loved each other, couldn’t help but make Rose forlorn. It also couldn’t help but make her think of Ian. Ever since that first meeting in _Rendezvous_ , Ian had been a constant presence in her thoughts, increasing in both frequency and intensity with each passing day. 

If one was to look objectively at their encounters, it wouldn’t make much sense for Rose to have such intense emotions every time she thought of him. Three of their four encounters had not been ideal—there’d been rudeness, shouting, arguing….intense, blazing eyes, bashful glances, an overwhelming desire to pull him by his lapels and snog him when he smiled or laughed…or breathed. Thinking of him stirred within her this sense of belonging—something that she’d never before experienced, but something that she’d yearned for ever since she was little. 

Rose had grown up seeing how her parents were devoted to each other, relying on each other when there were trials, relishing when there were joys. Everything they did, they did together—as a unit. Being witness to that, Rose had been determined to settle for nothing less—even if that meant being alone. Of course, this opened her up to endless questioning, pestering, and setups by her well-intentioned friends and family. Every now and again, Rose would relent and go on some blind date; yet, almost instantly, she knew that nothing would come of it. They were nice enough, one of them—Jake Simmonds—even ended up becoming a really great mate. But they weren’t what she needed, and deep down, Rose knew that she wasn’t what _they_ needed. This earned her several chastisements about her needing to give people time and being unreasonable, but Rose firmly believed that when she met him, she would instinctually know. And now, Rose couldn’t help but feel that Ian….

The oven timer’s shrill sound startled her, causing her to jerk both mentally and physically. Rose shook her head as she opened the oven doors and pulled out the cake layers. Maybe she was just being too fanciful. Maybe she had just imagined something more in his looks and manner than was actually present. But maybe…

“I still don’t understand why we’re rushin’ this bleedin’ dinner. The two of ‘ems just got engaged yesterday.”

Rose turned around to see her mum walking in and her dad carrying several grocery bags. She rolled her eyes and told her for nearly the tenth time, “Because this is the only day Martha has available before she takes her exams. And because we love them and want to do somethin’ special for ‘em.”

Jackie huffed and began emptying the bags, mumbling indecipherably as she did so. Pete walked over to his daughter and kissed her cheek. 

“I can’t tell if this is just her, or if the hormones have already set in,” she whispered. 

They both looked over at Jackie as she continued to put away the items, this time with much more force and grumbling. 

“It’s a tossup.”

Rose grinned and placed the cakes onto the cooling racks. “Thanks for pickin’ this stuff up for me. Were ya able to find the gold paint all right?”

“It was no problem, love. Found everythin’ you needed. Do ya need us to do anythin’ else?”

“Nope,” she shook her head, “Think I’ve got it from here. Are y—"

“I can’t believe lil’ Mickey’s gettin’ married,” Jackie sniffled, suddenly turning to them, mascara laden tears trailing her cheeks. “He’s just a baby.”

Rose bit her lip to hide her smile. “Mum, he’s twenty-four. S’not what ya’d exactly call a baby.”

Jackie rushed over to her, pulling her into a fierce embrace, her tears flowing. “And then it’ll be my baby girl…”

“Mum?” Rose asked, her voice muffled by Jackie’s hair in her mouth. 

“Jacks…let ‘er go,” Pete said, trying to pry Jackie’s arms open from her death grip. “You’re gonna suffocate her.”

Jackie let Rose loose, turning her attention to Pete and hugging him close, mumbling, “Our baby girl,” into his chest.

“Think that answers the hormone question,” Rose muttered under her breath, straightening her clothes. 

Jackie pulled back from Pete’s chest, sniffling and wiping at her eyes before offering a small smile. Pete lowered his head and placed a kiss to her head before looking over at Rose.

“Alright, we best get going. Told Donna we’d help set up before we got changed. See ya in a bit, sweetheart. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Jackie walked back over to Rose, cupping her face in her hands and starting another round of hormonal tears. 

“C’mon, Jacks,” Pete said, gently tugging her towards the door. 

She sniffed before looking irritably at him. “Alright, alright. I’m comin’. Don’t get y’self in a bloody knot.”

As they made their way to the front, Rose smiled at them as her mum grumbled and her dad listened forbearingly. With them now gone, Rose could get down to brass-tacks before she ran out of time. 

****

Cathica watched her employer with wonder and a fair amount of worry. He had to be ill. There couldn’t be another explanation. Although, most people didn’t smile like he was when they were ill. She was genuinely at a loss for his sudden change in behavior. He was polite, slightly more considerate, and he seemed… _happy._ Cathica had never seen anything like it in the five years she’d worked for him. While Ian had never been cruel to her, he hadn’t been particularly friendly. And he most _certainly_ hadn’t been happy, she would’ve noticed. Seeing such a marked change in his demeanor helped ease Cathica’s uncertainty of giving his brother that letter. Based on Jack’s reaction, the letter couldn’t have contained anything good. 

It was quickly approaching five, and Cathica prepared herself for the usual cancellation of her evening plans due to some pressing assignment that Ian seemed to always saddle her with at the last minute. As she heard the door to his office open, she took a breath and waited for the inevitable. Ian stepped through the door and on seeing her, gave a small smile and opened his mouth to speak.

_Here it comes…_

“See you tomorrow, Cathica. Have a good night,” he said with a small wave, leaving a stunned Cathica staring after him. 

****

The day had passed surprisingly quickly for Ian, and it had nothing to do with work. Work was rather perfunctory, because his mind had been mostly preoccupied with other things. One thing…well, one person—Rose. No matter what he did that day, she’d been in his thoughts. Not only had he unable to get her out of his mind, he found he didn’t _want_ to. In fact, he welcomed thoughts of Rose and all the emotions that came with them. He also found himself entertaining the idea of seeking her out, just wanting to be near her. But he rejected it, reminding himself that the other Rose wasn’t real, and the Rose _here_ didn’t have the same feelings. And anyways, it would just make things more complicated…wouldn’t it? 

His stomach began to tighten and growl, and Ian realized that he had gone the whole day without a bite to eat. Without giving it any real thought, he found himself heading towards _Rendezvous_. Upon arriving, he strode to the door and stepped into the restaurant. He immediately noticed that something about the place was off. There were no customers, just a small group of people—several of whom he knew…sort of. Of the ones he knew were Donna, Martha, Pete, Jackie, and that elderly gentleman, whose name escaped him, all busying about the room. On seeing Pete and Jackie, Ian fervently looked around, knowing that their presence most likely meant that Rose wa-…

Ian’s mind came to a halt as he saw Rose coming from the direction of the kitchen. She was dressed in an elegant, formfitting light pink dress and a pair of black strappy high heels that did amazing things to her legs. Her hair was down in soft waves about her shoulders, much like it had been when he last saw her. Words failed him. All he knew was that she took his breath away. Something inside of Ian told him that he shouldn’t be there, and he hurriedly turned to leave, when a voice stopped him dead in his tracks. 

“Ian?”

He slowly turned around and saw Rose approaching him, her expression perplexed yet also somewhat pleased…dare he say, happy? He was still too enamored to formulate sentences, no matter how hard he tried. 

“What are ya doin’ here?” she said, smiling brightly at him. 

Ian pulled on his ear. What _was_ he doing there? He suddenly couldn’t remember, and her smiling at him like that made it all the more difficult to recall his original purpose. Diverting his eyes nervously, he noticed a few people bringing food out, and finally remembered his reason for coming. 

“Uh, food. I hadn’t eaten and thought I’d stop off here. But I didn’t realize that you all were having a party, so I’ll just grab something else. Sorry to intrude,” he said quickly, attempting to rush off again. 

“Wait,” Rose called out, grabbing his arm gently and halting his getaway. “Y’don’t have to leave.”

Ian’s eyes widened slightly at her words, and he felt his lips part just a tad. “What?”

Rose tucked her hair behind her ear and fluttered her eyes around nervously. “Well, that is…”

“Who’s this, now?” a young man said, smilingly approaching Rose and putting a good-natured arm around her shoulders. 

Seeing this strange man’s arm making any sort of contact with Rose, stoked a raging fire within the pit of Ian’s stomach, and he locked his jaw. It surprised him how vehemently opposed he was to this unknown man touching hi-…to touching Rose. 

Rose looked at the man and smiled warmly. “Mickey, this is Ian. Ian, this sorry lump is my mate Mickey.”

Ian’s ears perked up on hearing the name ‘Mickey.’ If he remembered correctly, Rose had mentioned Mickey in connection with Martha, which would mean…

“Actually, this whole thing’s for ‘im and my flatmate, Martha. They just got engaged yesterday,” Rose informed him. 

“Oh,” Ian replied, unclenching his jaw and offering a smile, absurdly happy at this revelation, “Congratulations.”

“Thanks, mate,” Mickey beamed, turning his head back to look at Martha, who returned his smile with a blinding one of her own. 

Rose and Ian continued to exchange lingering, yet bashful glances with one another. She was just about to say something, when Ian beat her to it. 

“Weelll, I guess I should be going,” Ian said, though reluctant to leave now that Rose was near him.

“Why don’t ya stay?” Mickey piped up. 

Ian looked at him in surprise, his mouth once again opening in shock. “Sorry?”

“Why not?” Mickey shrugged smilingly. “We’re celebrating. The more the merrier.”

Ian looked from Mickey to Rose, his gaze uncertain and questioning. He saw her eyes sparkling with what appeared to be anticipation, causing a surge of excitement and warmth to spread through him. 

“Ya did say you were hungry. No sense in leaving now,” Rose grinned with just a touch of pink. 

_Please say yes…_

“Um, I guess I c-could stay. That is if you’re sure.”

Though this last bit was directed at Mickey, Ian continued to look at Rose as he spoke. Rose beamed and enthusiastically nodded her head. Despite whatever misconceptions the two of them had about their behavior, it was not lost on Mickey how the two of them were practically in their own world. 

Grinning at the pair of them, he nodded his head in affirmation. 

“Like I said—why not? Ya seem like a decent enough bloke. ‘Sides, with the lot here, you’re in for a good show. Can’t pass up that.”

Rose felt her stomach drop at Mickey's words as she thought about who all was present—her parents, Donna, Gramps, Mick and Martha, Sally, Isobel, and Jake. All of these people, who were such an integral part of her life, were present and about to meet Ian—a man she had just met, but to whom she felt insanely and intensely drawn. Rose by no means wanted him to leave, but she was beginning to have serious qualms over everyone's possible reactions. Doing her best to quell her anxiety, she offered another smile and motioned for Ian to follow them, him falling into step beside her.

Mickey, his arm still around Rose's shoulder, bent down and whispered, "You're welcome." 

She tilted her head up, her eyes wide with surprise, to see Mickey smirking knowingly at her. Rose pursed her lips, and elbowed him in the side, causing him to grunt and stumble slightly. Ian looked over at him curiously, but Rose just grinned sheepishly. 

"He's so clumsy."

When they reached the others, Mickey released Rose and joined Martha, the two of them exchanging a few chaste kisses. Rose turned around to face Ian, when suddenly she felt a hand grab her arm and yank her away from him and towards the kitchen, almost causing her to trip in her heels. 

"Whaa..."

"Rose, can I see ya for a mo’?" Donna said, more of an instruction than an actual request, and not waiting for any response.

Ian watched as Donna dragged Rose out of sight, his mouth slightly agape. Donna did not appear happy in the slightest, but all things considered, he perceived her reaction was relatively mild.

"Told ya you wouldn't wanna miss it. C'mon," Mickey said, maneuvering Ian towards the rest of the group, "I'll introduce ya to everybody."

****

Donna pushed open the door to the kitchen, pulling Rose behind her. Once inside, she whirled around to face Rose.

"What’s goin’ on?”

“S’cuse me? I should be askin’ _you_ that! Dragging me in here like ya just did,” Rose snipped.

Donna angrily pointed towards the door. “What is that bloody prat doin’ here? After how he treated you, what possessed you to bring ‘im here?”

Though Donna’s anger about his prior treatment of her was valid, Rose felt herself becoming extremely defensive of Ian and her eyes sparked with anger.

“Don’t snap at me and don’t call ‘im a prat! Yeah, he was one when we first met, but he’s not been like that since. Apologized an’ everythin’. And I didn’t bring him here. He stopped off to get something to eat, and _Mickey’s_ the one who invited ‘im to stay.” 

Of course, Rose left out the little detail about _her_ being the one who originally told him not to leave. Donna continued to focus intensely on Rose, her eyes flashing with worry and irritation. 

“How long have you two been seein’ each other? Why didn’t ya tell me ‘bout this? Y’know nothing about him!”

“Would you pipe down a lil’?” Rose grumbled at her, praying no one could hear them. “We’re not together, Donna. I didn’t tell ya ‘bout ‘this’ because there wasn’t anythin’ to tell.”

Crossing her arms, Donna pursed her lips and raised a skeptical brow. “Ya tellin’ me that there’s nothin’ going on between you two?”

Rose tucked her hair behind her ear, and forced herself to take a silent, steadying breath. “There’s nothin’ goin’ on.”

Donna was silent for a moment as she searchingly appraised her best friend. Even though she was consumed with protective ferocity, Donna was not blind to the change in Rose. There was something there that she’d never seen before—a spark that not only shone in her eyes, but illuminated her entirety. Coming to a sudden realization, Donna’s eyes softened, and a small smile tugged at her lips. 

“But ya want there to be.”

Rose lips parted, almost ready to protest, but she remained silent and swallowed harshly as she averted her eyes from Donna’s intense gaze. Taking another breath, she looked back at Donna, and tucked at her hair again. 

“Donna, y’know that everybody is probably gonna have a field day with him bein’ here, and I can’t have that. So, do what ya do best an’ watch my back? Please?”

Donna remained quiet as she thought about Rose’s words and behavior. If this was important to Rose, then it was important to her, and Donna would do whatever she could to help her. She pulled Rose into a tight, but brief embrace.

“Always. But I swear if he starts somethin’, I will personally shove a pear down his bloody throat.”

****

As Mickey led him over to the group, Ian felt a wave of nervousness wash over him, and he desperately wished that Rose would return immediately. Without her near, he felt unsure and more than a little anxious being out of his element. Once again, discovering himself nervous and less than perfectly composed was an entirely new experience. The sensations this enigmatic woman stirred within him amazed him.

“So…”

Mickey’s sudden voice pulled Ian from his ponderings and he turned his attention to the man and the individuals before him. 

“This is Sally and Isobel. Sally’s Rose’s cousin and the two of ‘em work with Rose. Spikey, there, is Jake. Over there,” Mickey motioned to the far corner, “Ya got Pete and Jackie—Rose’s mum and dad. And then, Wilf. He’s Donna’s granddad, but we all pretty much call ‘im Gramps. We kinda adopted ‘im as ours. Uh, Donna’s the red that walked off with Rose. And this…this is Martha,” he beamed, pulling her closer to him. “Everybody, this here’s Ian. He’s a friend of Rose’s.”

“Good to meet you,” Ian said sincerely, something else quite unexpected for him. They all greeted him enthusiastically, and he couldn’t help but notice their painfully obvious grins, all directed at him. At their persistence, Ian spoke up.

“Something wrong?”

“Oh, nothin’,” Sally assured him, her grin firmly in place and widening by the second. “Nothin’ at all.”

“So…,” Jake started, taking a slow sip of his drink, “You an’ Rose. How long’s that be goin’ on?”

“W-we…,” Ian coughed to ease his now constricted throat. He really should have anticipated that question. “We aren’t together, if that’s what you’re getting at. Just friends. That’s it. Friends.”

_And married. Weelll, not here…_

“That’s nice,” Isobel chimed in, her tone clearly unbelieving. In fact, as Ian looked at the group before him, he could tell that _none_ of them looked like they were convinced of his answer. 

“Hey Ian, c’mere a tic,” Mickey said, disentangling himself from Martha and motioning for Ian to follow. After they were a comfortable distance away, Mickey turned to Ian. “So listen… I thought I’d give you a heads up. We’re all pretty protective of each other, but there’s three ya gotta watch. Donna and Jackie, they’re pretty likely to physically harm ya if ya try anythin’…believe me…I’ve seen it. Some bloke wouldn’t let up on Sally, and Jackie went all mother wolf on ‘im. So watch yourself there. And then Pete… he’s Rose’s dad so…’nuf said there.”

Ian took a rough gulp at the warning. Even though he’d experienced a fair amount of protectiveness from all three mentioned, it still was a little unsettling. 

“You don’t even know me. Why would you tell me all this? I’m grateful, but just wondering why.”

Mickey smiled, and gave him a knowing wink. “Y’seem like a smart bloke. Think y’know the answer to that.”

Ian was about to ask for clarification, when Rose and Donna finally came out of the kitchen. There was anxiety etched onto Rose’s features, and seeing it twisted at Ian’s heart. The idea of her being unhappy in any way was not settling well with him. However, when her eyes met his, her countenance instantly brightened, and Ian couldn’t help but mirror her expression. It didn’t even dim when Donna looked appraisingly at him before joining the others. 

Rose stood beside him, and for a moment, it looked like she wanted to take his hand. However, she restrained herself and instead looked up at him. 

“Ready?”

He maintained his gaze with hers. As her warm brown eyes remained trained on his, he found himself drowning in her—in her goodness, in her sincerity, in her love, in… _her_. Feeling his smile widen, he silently nodded, following her lead.

Maybe he was finally ready. 

****

The evening progressed rather smoothly and pleasantly. Mostly there was idle chatter, but it was still pleasant nonetheless. Ian found himself sitting next to Rose. He was quite pleased with this, but he hadn’t wanted to appear obvious in his preference. Although, that decision was taken from him, as the five from earlier all conveniently avoided all seats near Rose, except for Donna, of course, who gave his a cautionary look as he sat down. Despite that, he found he wasn’t put off. He was next to Rose, and that was more than enough for him. 

“So, have you two set a date?” Jackie asked between bites.

Mickey looked at her like she’d dribbled on her shirt. “Ya mean in the less than 24 hours since we got engaged? No, can’t say we have.”

“Oi! Watch y’self, Mickey. Not too old for a slap.”

“Can we go an evening without threat of bodily harm, Aunt Jacks?” 

“That goes for you, too, lil’ miss,” Jackie warned, but with a smile that Sally returned.

“So Ian…”

Ian looked up and over to Pete. He’d only participated in a conversation here and there, but now Pete was calling him out directly, and he forced himself to refrain from fidgeting. Even though he’d met Pete before, this was a completely different version and he wasn’t sure what to expect.

“How do y’know Rose?”

Of course Pete would ask _that_ question. What was he supposed to tell him? _‘Your daughter waited on me, and then the next day I practically screamed at her and accused her of drugging me with a banana cupcake’?_ Somehow, Ian didn’t think that Pete would be pleased with that knowledge. Now everyone was looking at him expectantly, and yet no words were coming to him. 

“Uh…”

“He came into the restaurant and I waited on him,” Rose replied, saving him from further embarrassment. “Ran into each other several times after that.”

Donna snorted, and Rose promptly kicked her under the table. 

“Sorry. Stuck piece of meat,” Donna explained, taking a sip of water. 

“Try focusing on chewing,” Rose ‘suggested.’

“So what do ya do for work, young man?” Wilf asked, keeping his tone light and inquisitive rather than interrogative, sensing Ian’s discomfort in the unfamiliar spotlight.

“I’m a prosecutor.”

“Ya seein’ anyone?” Isobel asked with perfect nonchalance. 

“Can someone please pass me the wine?” Rose interjected quickly, eliciting several smiles from the group. 

“You’re single, right Rose?” Sally said as she handed her the bottle. 

“I know you are. Or has that changed?” Rose retorted, flicking her gaze over to Jake. Sally flushed at Rose’s hidden meaning, and she backed off. 

“What’s wrong, Jackie? You’ve not had a drop tonight,” Martha piped up, trying to rein the conversation to neutral territory. 

Jackie straightened her posture. “Nothin’s wrong. Just haven’t felt like it.”

“Don’t feel like it?” Mickey snorted. “Ya sick?”

“Oi! Don’t go makin’ me sound like a lush. I just can’t have any.”

Donna narrowed her eyes at Jackie’s last statement. “’Can’t’? What d’ya mean, ‘can’t’?” 

“I mean I _can’t_.”

“Holy crap, you’re pregnant!” Isobel shrieked in shock, quickly throwing her hand over her mouth as she realized her volume.

“What?!” several cried in unison.

“That’s wonderful,” Wilf cheered, clapping his hands together. 

“That’s kinda gross,” Mickey muttered.

Jackie whipped her head towards him, glaring daggers. “What’s that now?” 

“Said ya kinda glow.”

“Is there a reason this is now a discussion?” Pete inquired upon deaf ears.

“I can’t believe you’re pregnant!” Donna joined in, and turning to Rose, said, “And I can’t believe _you_ didn’t tell.”

“They told me to keep quiet before I could phone.”

“Why is everybody actin’ like this is some sorta bleedin’ miracle?” Jackie demanded. “I’m a woman, I have a uterus.”

There were several groans of protest and clattering forks at that statement. 

“Mum, for the love of all that’s holy, I beg of you to stop talking,” Rose pleaded, resting her head in her hand in embarrassment. 

While the rest of the group continued to clamor over each other, Ian struggled to keeps his laughter internalized, placing a hand over his mouth as he attempted to do his best. Out of her periphery, Rose could see him shaking with restrained laughter, and she tilted her head towards him. 

“You’re enjoying my misery, aren’t ya?” she grinned at him.

Unable to stop himself, Ian nodded his head and chuckled, Rose joining him. “Too bad we can’t make a run for it.”

Rose’s eyes lit up with mischief, and Ian could see a plan formulating in her mind. She leaned in and whispered, “You slowly get up and act like you’re goin’ to the loo. Go through the kitchen and use the backdoor to the alleyway. I’ll follow in a minute.”

Ian smiled and nodded in agreement. He discretely stood and followed Rose’s instructions. He was in the alleyway for a few minutes longer than expected. Just as he started to become concerned, Rose hurriedly opened the door. 

Seeing him, she grinned. 

“Run!”

****

Ian couldn’t believe what he was doing. When he started his day, he did not plan to have a family dinner with Rose, let alone sneaking off to walk randomly with her. This was not like him, but he found that he was enjoying the unpredicted change. After their laughter eased off, the walked the streets in comfortable silence. The skies had darkened as night began to set in, allowing the streetlamps and city lights to lighten their path. 

“Sorry they sorta put you on the spot.”

Smiling, Ian shrugged. “No worries. I’ve had worse.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Weelll,” Ian looked up in pseudo thought, “There was this one time I was trapped in a lift with an angry blonde. Terrifying,” he ended with a dramatic shiver.

“Shut it,” she playfully smacked his arm, and started laughing. “I was rather angry, wasn't I?”

“Oh, I think angry might be an understatement,” he grinned before shrugging, “But I deserved it after how I acted.”

“Yeah, ya did,” Rose agreed cheekily, “but it’s over…not gonna hold it over ya.”

“I’m glad.”

Hearing his soft tone, Rose looked up at him, seeing his eyes were just as tender as his tone had been. She swallowed before slowly turning her eyes away. They passed a shop, and she jerked to a halt.

“What’s wrong?”

“Chips. God, they smell _gorgeous_.”

He chuckled at her emphasis. “Do you want to stop?”

Rose smiled but then it faltered, and she shook her head as she remembered she had no money. “That’s all right.”

“Just a second ago you were practically drooling,” he said, frowning in confusion.

“Yeah, but if ya haven’t noticed,” she gestured to herself, “I ran out of the restaurant with nothin’. And I like these heels too much to trade ‘em for a basket of chips.”

Rolling his eyes, he smiled, grabbed her hand, and tugged her into the shop. “C’mon.”

A few minutes later, they exited the shop, each with a basket. Fortunately, Ian had a billfold in his suit pocket. 

Taking a bite, she turned to him. “Thanks. I’ll pay ya back.”

“Oh, please, it’s just chips. It’s a pretty cheap date.” Ian felt his ears burn as he realized that that four letter word had left his lips. Embarrassed, he kept his eyes forward, terrified to see her reaction. If he had looked, however, he would have noticed the pinked cheeks and brilliant grin Rose was wearing.

Rose picked out another chip and popped it into her mouth. As she did, Ian was nearly overpowered by the smell of vinegar. 

“Do you think ya put enough vinegar on those things? I’m not sure if there’s any left in London,” he teased.

Rose stopped midstride, sticking her half-chewed chip out at him. 

He stared at her for a moment. “That is truly disgusting.”

She pulled her tongue back into her mouth and started laughing at his facial expression, occasionally snorting as she tried to control herself.

“Oh my God…your face…too good.”

Her words caused Ian’s breath to hitch as he remembered the events of the previous day. She was just as breathtaking then as she was now, so full of life and love. Everything about her amazed him. He forced himself to focus and take a breath that was long overdue. They continued walking, exchanging various comments about random topics. The night air became cold, and Rose began to shiver, though never complaining. However, it didn’t go unnoticed and Ian took off his suit jacket, draping it over her as she smiled her thanks. As they approached St. James’ Park, they deposited their empty baskets into the waste bin. Instead of continuing to walk, Rose stopped to stare at the park, a reminiscent look in her eyes. 

“I love coming here in the spring. There’s this theatre group that acts out Shakespeare’s plays. They do it at night, and I just lay there in the grass, look up at the sky and listen. It’s beautiful. To just lie there and listen to the words flow and for one moment, to lose yourself.” 

As she finished, she looked over at Ian for his response. His lips were curved into a small smile and his eyes were shining, but she could see something behind them. There was some emotion that Rose couldn’t quite identify. Clearing his throat, he looked back over at the park in silent reflection. 

“My brother and I…we had to study Shakespeare. Romeo and Juliet, specifically. My brother was assigned to reenact Romeo’s part,” he chuckled as he looked over and saw Rose’s questioning eyes, “If you knew him, you’d find it amusing, too. Anyway, my father loved Shakespeare. Had this huge worn volume of his works, with notations and everything. I actually still have it tucked away. Well, he made us study the play—I mean truly study it. Over and over. Said it wasn’t just about two kids in love who end up killing themselves, that there was a deeper meaning, and that he’d make my brother give up the part if he was just in it for the snogging.”

Rose giggled and Ian couldn’t help but join her as he thought of Jack’s many “rehearsals.” 

“So,” he cleared throat, “My father kept at us till he felt that we got the point of what we were reading.”

After several moments of silence, Rose looked up at him, and softly inquired, “And what was the point of it? The play, I mean.”

Ian swallowed several times and kept his eyes forward. “That there are some things so precious, so beautiful in life that they’re worth risking everything for…no matter what the costs. That even if it’s for one fleeting moment, that one moment of happiness is worth every heartache.”

The beauty and depth of Ian’s words took every trace of air from her, and she silently stared at him, visibly moved. All trepidation then vanished, and she reached over and took his hand in hers, lacing her fingers with his. At the sudden contact, Ian turned his eyes to their joined hands before looking up at Rose. Her eyes shown with not only tears, but the same love that he’d seen so many times before. She smiled at him, not the same brilliant one she often wore, but one that held a different type of intensity. This was a soothing smile, gentle, and held him almost as if she had taken him into her arms. 

Ian felt his body move closer to her. So many emotions began to overtake him, and he had never felt so torn. He knew that he didn’t know her, not really; but at the same time, he felt that he knew no one better, and she him. Though he had just echoed his father’s words, he couldn’t bring himself to heed them. Stopping himself from drawing closer, he smiled softly at her. 

“It’s getting late. We should probably head back. I don’t want your family putting my head on a plate.”

Rose chuckled, though much more softly than previously. With an unspoken agreement, they turned and began the journey back. When they got within sight of the restaurant, Rose motioned towards the alleyway. 

“Donna keeps a spare key hidden in the back. You’re less likely to be throttled if I just go in this way,” she grinned. 

“Then let’s go with that plan.”

They reached the door and Rose quickly retrieved the key. Turning back to him, she realized that their hands were still entwined. Reluctantly, she broke her grasp and shrugged off his jacket, handing it back almost reverently. He smiled, and fitted his arms through it, straightening his appearance. 

“Thank you…for saving me in there.” 

“My pleasure. Besides, death by embarrassment is a nasty way to go,” he teased, giving her a small grin once finished.

“Yeah,” she chuckled, “It was pretty painful for a bit.”

Several beats passed as they stood there, silently relishing the other’s presence. Hearing voices behind the door, Rose realized it was time to leave him. Just the thought of it pained her, but she knew there was no other option. 

“I…I have to go.”

He nodded, but didn’t make to leave. 

Rose was unable to hold back any longer, and she moved forward and placed a lingering kiss to his cheek. Pulling back, she saw Ian’s eyes firmly closed, and heard his breath hitch. Slowly, he opened his eyes. The intensity of emotion she saw was almost overpowering, and it took every ounce of strength she had to tear herself away. 

“Goodnight, Ian.”

She turned away to open the door.

“Cillian.”

“What?” Rose asked, facing him again.

“My name…my full name. It’s Cillian.”

A slow smile spread across, lighting every feature on her beautiful face. “Goodnight…Cillian.”

“Goodnight, Rose.”

Knowing that if she didn’t leave right away, she might never be able to do so, she turned back around and entered the restaurant. Resting against the door, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply. She knew once everyone became aware that she was back, she would be in for it, but she didn’t care in the slightest. 

Some things were worth the momentary unpleasantness.


	14. Realizations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friday, November 8, 2019
> 
> Eavesdrop--The Civil Wars

For the first time in days, Rose awoke to the feel of her husband's arms wrapped around her torso. Her eyes were still closed out of uncertainty that she might open them to find it was all her imagination. Instead, Rose allowed her other senses to bask in the experience. Taking her free hand, she moved it across Ian's chest slowly and deliberately, allowing her fingertips to trace the muscles hidden under his thin undershirt, sighing as she felt the familiar contours. A smile blossomed onto Rose’s face as she inhaled deeply, his comforting scent filling her lungs. 

While perfectly willing to contentedly lie there and bask in the warmth and familiarity of Ian’s slumbering embrace, Rose knew that she couldn’t waste the day away in ignorance of what was hope and what was reality. Finally summoning her courage, she tentatively opened her eyes, barely allowing them to process her surroundings, but then sighed in relief as she realized it was most certainly not a dream. She was indeed wrapped within his arms, and the cherished sense of tranquility came rushing back over her. Allowing her head to linger on his chest, Rose placed a gentle kiss directly above his heart as she listened to its strong, steady beat and the lulling feeling of the rise and fall of his chest. Hearing his sigh, she lifted her head to see a smile on his sleeping face. Seeing his peace caused Rose's own smile to shine more brilliantly. 

Reluctantly, she gently disentangled herself from Ian's arms, careful not to disturb him. The significance of the day was at the forefront of her mind, and Rose knew that any added rest would be beneficial for him. The last several years had been easier on Ian, with only the occasional nightmare resurfacing. But in light of his recent behavior being so reminiscent of the past, Rose surmised that today held the potential to be exceptionally difficult. Knowing this, she realized that she would have to put whatever personal qualms she was feeling over his continued (though diminishing) distance aside, and put his needs ahead of whatever she was feeling—at least, for a while. 

Slinking off the bed, Rose stood and stretched her sleep idled body. That action awakened more than her muscles. At the flurry of movement, Rose smiled down at her unborn son, gently stroking her stomach in contentment. Her mobile began to vibrate on the bedside table and Rose hurriedly picked it up and left the room, closing the door softly behind her. 

“Hello?”

_“Mornin’, sweetheart. Why’s your voice so low? You’re not gettin’ sick, are ya?”_

“No, I just woke up, but Ian’s still asleep. ‘S everythin’ okay?”

_“Everythin’s fine, love. Are the two of yous busy today?”_

“Uh, no…I can’t think of anythin’ we’d be doing. Ian’s basically keeping me locked up here. Tried leavin’ once. He didn’t take to it too well.”

_“Good on ‘im, he’s doin’ his job. Y’know you’re s’posed to be resting. Martha’s already got all of us on watch, and you better believe we’ll be keepin’ tabs!”_

Closing her eyes, Roses sighed and began rubbing her forehead with her free hand. “Mum, was there an actual reason y’called this early? Or's it just so you could pick at me? Coz if that’s it, could we just shelve this ‘til after I’ve had more sleep or at least some breakfast?”

_“Don’t get snippy. I just need someone to watch Tony while I run some errands. Your dad’s at some jobsite and Tony’s been missin’ the lot of you. I wouldn’t even ask, what with y’just gettin’ out of hospital, but I knew himself was there to take care of ya. Do y’mind? It’d just be for a few hours.”_

Rose turned her head towards the bedroom door, thinking intently about the man sleeping soundly behind it. For a moment she debated about what answer to give her mum. Her reluctance had nothing to do with not wanting Tony with them; he was full of childish exuberance and wonder and unusually well-behaved considering his age. Her reticence was more the result of so many unknown variables surrounding the day. But the fact remained that whatever was going to happen, was going to happen, and she would simply roll with the punches as they came. Besides, Tony completely adored Ian, and perhaps his presence would bring some added levity. 

Her mind finally decided, Rose smiled and answered, “Sure, Mum. That sounds great.”

****

It had been several years since Ian had been able to have a restful night’s sleep—six, in fact. More nights than not, he would dream of the events of that day with such eerie precision, it was as if he was literally there. But for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, Ian slept through the night without as much as a vague impression of that day. All that he experienced was a deep sense of tranquility and belonging, all stemming from the woman he held in his arms as he drifted off. As his mind filled with images of Rose, Ian suddenly became aware that his arms were vacant and his eyes immediately opened as he registered her loss. Assuming she was still in bed, he turned onto his side, fully expecting to see her slumbering body next to him. Instead, his eyes locked with those of a small boy sitting cross-legged, his elbows resting on his knees, chin resting in his hands, and looking expectantly at Ian. 

Ian blinked slowly as his brain tried to register the unexpected boy’s presence. On seeing that Ian was finally awake, the little boy’s hazel eyes twinkled with delight, and a wide toothy grin burst forth. 

“Um…hello,” Ian said confusedly, yet he couldn’t help but mirror the boy’s grin. 

“Hey,” he said, waving his small hand excitedly. 

The two of them continued to wordlessly regard each other, before Ian finally spoke up. “So, uh…what are you doing?” 

The little boy gave a slight bounce. “Rose said not to wake ya. So, I’ve been waitin’.”

As the little boy finished his explanation, Ian finally realized that this was the same little boy he’d seen the day he and Rose had gone to her parents’ house to pick up Olivia, which would make him…

“Tony!” Rose’s voice suddenly reprimanded. 

Both Ian and Tony turned to look at her, Ian’s eyes smiling while Tony’s were wide with worry.

“You’re s’posed to be downstairs. I told you to let Ian sleep.”

“I didn’t do nothin’,” Tony insisted. 

Arching an eyebrow, Rose crossed her arms and regarded him with a disbelieving look.

“It’s true,” Ian defended, propping his body up to look at her fully. “He didn’t wake me. But he did surprise me a little, considering I was expecting to see _you_ next to me. I’ve kinda gotten used to it.”

“Like the view, do ya?” she teased with a cheeky smile. 

“Very much,” he answered in soft earnest.

Something in his tone caused Rose to swallow deeply, and she felt her cheeks flush. His ability to leave her so affected with so little effort never ceased to amaze her. Every day she felt herself fall deeper in love with him, an action that defied all logic. After all, how could you possible fall deeper in love with someone who already possessed your body and soul? 

An indiscernible look filled Ian’s eyes, and he broke his gaze. Nervously clearing his throat, he turned his attention to Tony and smilingly said, “You hungry, little man?”

“Staaaarrrving!” Tony replied dramatically, tilting backwards and flopping spread-eagle onto the mattress.

“Oh for the love of…,” Rose sighed with an eye-roll, “Tony, y’just had like four pieces of toast and jam.”

“But now I want pancakes!”

“You’re a bottomless pit.”

“But Roooosssee…….I’m huuuunnggry!” Tony continued whining, still lying flat on his back.

Chuckling, Ian shook his head at Tony’ dramatics and ruffled his mop of strawberry blonde hair. “C’mon, kiddo. Let’s get up. I’ll make you something.” 

Rose laughed outright, causing Ian to halt the pulling back of the duvet and stare questioningly at her. 

“And what’s so funny?”

“ _You_ are gonna _cook_?” 

“Are you suggesting that I can’t cook?”

Rose was unable to suppress her snort at his disbelieving front. “I’m not _suggesting_ anythin’. It’s a well proven fact.”

“Still hungry,” Tony called out again, remaining flat on his back.

“I’ll have you know that I’m perfectly capable of putting ingredients into a bowl and making something.”

“Yes, but is it _edible_?” 

“’Is it edible?’” he irritably mimicked, finally rising to his feet. “Tony?”

The little boy popped his head up. “Yeah?”

“C’mon. _I’m_ gonna make you pancakes,” he said determinedly as Rose quirked a challenging eyebrow and tried to hide her smile.

“YAAAY!” Tony cheered, scrambling to his feet and using the bed to trampoline onto Ian’s back. Though Tony’s arms were practically crushing his windpipe, Ian paid them no mind as he looked somewhat defiantly at Rose, and headed downstairs to the kitchen.

Finally allowing her smile to appear, Rose followed after them, muttering under her breath, “Well, this should be fun.”

****

Tony sat perched on the kitchen counter, haphazardly swinging his legs around in the air. “Maybe Rose should make us pancakes,” he said for the fourth time in an hour and a half. 

Ian looked up at him, furrowing his flour streaked brow irritably at the repeated suggestion. “We don’t need Rose. We’re completely fine. We can do this by ourselves,” he reiterated more for himself than for Tony and restarted whisking the lumpy contents in the mixing bowl. The lumps refused to dissipate and Ian gave a low growl in irritation.

Tony ran a finger through a puddle of batter on the tiled countertop, absentmindedly rubbing it into the grout. “I don’t know if we can…I’m only five but you’re…,” he looked up and wrinkled his nose as he thought, “a hundred?”

Ian immediately stopped whisking and looked over at Tony, clearly offended. “A hundred? Seriously? Do I look that old?” Though it was pure ridiculousness, Tony’s innocent words had somehow managed to wound his vanity.

“Dunno,” Tony shrugged. “What’s a hundred look like?”

“I don’t know, but not like me!” 

“Well, how old are ya?”

Looking up, Ian wrinkled his brow in thought. If it was 2019, then that meant… “Thirty-six.”

Tony’s eyes widened in awe. “ _Whoa!_ ” 

“A moment ago you thought I was a hundred, but now somehow thirty-six seems ancient?” Ian chuckled questioningly.

Again, Tony shrugged his shoulders. Suddenly, his hazel eyes became as wide as saucers and he pointed behind Ian. 

“Fire!”

Ian whirled around and saw flames beginning to consume the contents in the pan. Cursing, he flung the bowl onto the counter and grabbed the skillet handle, running over to the sink and turning on the faucet. Smoke billowed as the water hit the flaming contents of the pan. He turned back to face Tony.

“Do _not_ tell Rose.”

“Don’t tell me what?”

Turning, he saw Rose standing at the entryway, holding Livy on her hip and unable to hide her amused smirk. Seeing that look on her face only steeled Ian’s resolve to not admit defeat. Of course, it also filled him with the overwhelming desire to wipe it off her face in the most delightful of ways. As that image entered his mind, he felt a blazing heat creep up his neck. Rose must have noticed his altered manner, because that teasing tongue poked through her teeth as she grinned almost knowingly at him. 

Pushing aside all thoughts and images, Ian looked at her with a perfect mask of ignorance. “Hmm? Tell ya what? What makes you think there’s something to tell?”

“Well,” she drawled, “Considering ya just said ‘don’t tell Rose,’ I’m assuming you’ve done something. That, and the counter is covered in…I don’t even know _what_ that is… _and_ I can smell smoke.”

“Not sure what to tell you. Everything’s under control. Right, Tony?”

Tony looked from a silently pleading Ian to a disbelieving Rose. Unfortunately for Ian, Tony’s fear of his sister won out over his adoration of Ian, and he hopped off the counter and walked towards Rose. 

“Uh…the pan caught on fire.”

“Traitor,” Ian muttered, crinkling his brow as the boy walked away. 

Olivia began to wiggle in Rose’s arms before finally lurching forward, her arms outstretched towards her father. Rose lowered her to the ground, and Livy scurried over to Ian, her little arms flailing at her sides. Smiling amusedly yet lovingly, he scooped her up into his arms. Seeing the mess all over the countertop, Livy promptly plopped her hand into the middle of the lumpy liquid, splattering Ian in the process. She curiously lifted her hand to her face, her tongue darting out to taste the foreign substance covering it. As soon as the content made contact with her taste-buds, Livy scrunched her face up in disgust and began spitting about. 

Ian looked down and frowned at her. “Well, that’s a bit of an overreaction, don’t ya think?” 

Rose bit her lip, desperately trying to contain her laughter as she witnessed not only Olivia’s display, but also Ian’s reaction. Clearing her throat in an attempt to compose herself, she looked at her husband, a smile tugging at her lips. 

“So…I think she just proved what I said earlier. Ya can’t cook.”

“She’s just being picky. It can’t be that bad,” he insisted, swiping a smidgen of it onto his finger and popping it into his mouth. The instant it met his tongue, Ian felt his stomach turn. It was quite possibly the most disgusting thing he’d ever tasted. He wanted nothing more than to spit out the foul substance and rinse his mouth out with as much water as humanly possible. But Rose continued to stand there knowingly smirking at him, just waiting for him to flinch. Refusing to give her the satisfaction, Ian schooled his features into an indecipherable mask.

“Eh,” he said, shrugging his shoulders and attempting to keep down his bile, “It’s not _that_ bad.”

A challenging spark flashed in Rose’s eyes, and she slowly approached him. “Sooo…,” she drawled as she swiped a large amount of batter onto her own finger, “If I was to feed this to not only myself but our unborn son, absolutely nothin’ would happen? It wouldn’t make me sick or anythin’?” Slowly, she brought the batter towards her mouth. Just as her finger approached her lips, Ian grabbed her hand, stopping her.

“Alright, fine. You win—I can’t cook. Happy?” he grumbled in defeat.

“Oh, c’mon now,” Rose said, playfully bumping him with her arm. “You’re still rather impressive.”

“Yeah? Like with what exactly?” he inquired teasingly.

“Oh… so, _so many_ things,” Rose teased in kind, giving him a saucy wink. 

Ian couldn’t pull his eyes away from Rose, only wordlessly stare at her. At that moment, Livy reminded him of her presence and smacked her batter covered hand into his hair, sliding it down onto his cheek. The trance now broken, Ian looked at his daughter, frowning. 

“Thanks for that, love.”

Tony began to giggle and Rose bit her lip to stifle her own laughter. Ian looked over at her, clearly put out, and Rose was unable to hold back any longer. She burst out laughing, putting her hand over her mouth to calm herself down. 

“You’re taking far too much enjoyment in this,” he grumbled at her, though a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. 

Still giggling, Rose placed a quick kiss to his clean cheek. “Here,” she said, taking Livy, “I’ll take Livy, and you go get cleaned up. 

Nodding, Ian turned to go, but Rose called out to him. 

“Wait.” 

Stopping at her voice, he looked at her. Walking up to him, she smiled and wiped the batter from her fingers onto his shirt.

“Oi!”

“What?” she laughingly shrugged. “You’re already covered in it, and I needed to clean my hand.”

“You could use the sink, y’know?”

“But you make such a pretty napkin.”

Ian cocked an eyebrow upward. “Pretty?”

“I’d use other adjectives but there are children present,” she grinned, tongue in teeth.

Though he swallowed harshly at her tone, Ian couldn’t help but grin at her. Forcing himself to focus, Ian left the kitchen, and headed upstairs to wash off.

***

Rose sat at the small kitchen table and fed Olivia while Tony finished up his bowl of cereal. Even though he had whined about the lack of pancakes, he had begrudgingly settled for cereal once Rose told him it was that or nothing. They sat there quietly for several moments before the ringing of Rose’s mobile broke the silence. 

Glancing at the Caller ID, Rose smiled and answered. “Hey, Sarah Jane.”

_“Hello Rose. How are you feeling?”_

“’M fine, ta. Sorta tired, but overall alright.”

Sarah Jan sighed into the receiver. _“I’m so relieved to hear that. I was worried sick when your mum phoned. I would’ve come seen you, but I thought you needed a day or two to yourself to rest.”_

“You worry too much ‘bout me.”

_“And you don’t worry enough. You’re one of the most stubborn people I’ve met…well, apart from Ian. Probably more so, actually.”_

Rose chuckled at that. “That’s what he says.”

There was a responding chuckle, followed by a long silence.

“Sarah Jane?” 

_“How is he?”_

Rose didn’t have to inquire further, knowing right away to what Sarah Jane was referring. “He seems okay right now. He hasn’t said anythin’ and I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing.”

 _“I’m worried,”_ Sarah Jane sighed again, this time more wearily. _“Your mum and I talked a few days ago, and she told me about his strange behavior. Then when Jack stopped by, I could tell something was off with him. He seemed…troubled. He wouldn’t really say, but I’ve seen ‘im like that before. When things with Ian were bad. And I’m just…”_

Even though Sarah Jane had trailed off, Rose knew what she had left unsaid. “I know. Me too.”

_“Do…do y’think I should come over and…I don’t know…talk to him? Try and find out what’s going on. I know this day is hard on all of us; I think him a little more so, considering what happened.”_

“I know he’s been off, but I know I can manage it. If somethin’ changes, I’ll ring.”

_“If you’re sure…”_

“I’m sure. Promise,” Rose assured her, smiling into the phone. 

_“Alright. I’ll let ya go. Just remember I’m here if you need me.”_

“I will. Thanks, Sarah Jane.” 

_“Anytime, Rose. Talk to you later.”_

“Bye.”

Thinking over the brief conversation, Rose couldn’t help but continue to worry about Ian. She wanted nothing more than to be there for him. It was only a question of whether or not he’d let her.

***

As the steaming hot water poured down onto him, Ian couldn’t stop his thoughts from drifting to Rose and the life he was currently living. It was something he’d never imagined, not even before the past events of the day. Back when things had been relatively normal, he’d never expected to have some look at him like Rose did almost every minute they were together. Those warm brown eyes would bore into him with such intensity and devotion, as if she was looking straight into his soul, and Ian felt himself unable to breathe at times. And then his little girl… a mirror image of himself and looking at him with such adoration that he was filled with such overwhelming warmth. And despite all efforts, Ian was beginning to fall into this life, to cherish the peace and utter sense of completion it brought to his being. But there was one line he still was not crossing, and that was giving in to the idea of loving Rose. As much as her presence filled his soul, he knew it was something that he couldn’t risk. 

Realizing he’d been standing there in contemplation for quite a while, Ian quickly finished his shower and got ready for the day. Smiling, he descended the stairs and walked into the living room, immediately seeing Rose and the children. Tony and Livy were playing on the floor, with Tony attempting to build a block structure and Livy taking great pleasure in knocking it down just as it was almost complete. Ian chuckled and he watched Tony huff at his thwarted efforts and Olivia shrieking with delight each time. 

From her place on the sofa, Rose laughed as well as she idly caressed her stomach. Ian’s smile became warm and thoughtful as he was forced to admit that there was no denying the complete beauty of the scene before him. Rose sensed a new presence in the room and turned her head, locking eyes with him. 

“Feel better?”

“Much,” he nodded. He continued to remain standing, just looking at her. 

“Ian, Livy won’t stop knockin’ my tower over. I told ‘er to stop but she won’t listen!” Tony complained. 

“She’s just tryin’ to play with ya, Tony,” Rose explained, trying to soothe his irritation. 

Tony huffed and crossed his arms, leaning against the sofa. “Well I don’t like it!”

“Here,” Ian said, joining the two of them on the floor, “I’ll build with you and keep Olivia from messing it up. Sound like a plan?”

“Yup!”

The three of them sat there contentedly, with Tony and Ian building various structures while Livy found new entertainment in running around and picking up various items and chewing on them, much to the chagrin of Rose. Once Livy popped one of Tony’s trainers into her mouth, Rose decided that was enough of that, and got off the sofa. Olivia interpreted this as a new game, and began to run around the room as Rose chased after her. She did so for a few moments, before she suddenly felt lightheaded and a wave of fatigue. The sudden change caused Rose to snap at her daughter. 

“Olivia Emily, stop! Mummy isn’t…,” Rose stopped, placing a hand on the arm of the sofa, and closing her eyes.

Ian noticed this and was immediately on his feet and by her side, putting an arm around her.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, forcing himself to keep a calm tone of voice. 

Giving a slight shake of her head, she said, “’S nothin’. I just got tired all of a sudden.” She took another breath, and felt her head began to clear. 

“Rose, if you’re making light of this, I swear—"

She put her hand over his. “I’m not, love. Honest.”

“Fine,” he replied, his tone conveying a trace of doubt. “But you’re going upstairs for a lie down.”

Genuinely too fatigued to protest, Rose nodded and allowed Ian to guide her up the stairs and to their bedroom. Rose crawled into the unmade bed.

“'M really fine,” she insisted once more, her voice already groggy and her eyes heavy. 

“I know you are. But just let me do this,” Ian said softly, pulling the duvet over her.

“M’kay…,” she agreed, her voice now just above a whisper. Her head touched the pillow and her eyes finally closed. Ian allowed himself a moment to gaze at her before exiting room. As he reached the door, Rose’s voice called out to him once more.

“Love you.”

Stopping, he turned and looked at her. Her eyes were still closed and her body was still, save for the rise and fall of her chest. A smile graced her slumbering face, and Ian couldn’t help but mirror it. 

“Sleep good, Rose.”

With those final words, Ian gently closed the door and returned to the children downstairs.

***

It was near ten, and Rose had been asleep for close to an hour. Part of Ian had expected to have difficulty managing Tony and Olivia, but he was pleasantly surprised to find that he not only was he managing splendidly, he was enjoying himself immensely. Tony made it clear that he was ecstatic to be there with him, and Olivia was her usual exuberant self. He and Tony were in the midst of coloring when a sudden knock interrupted them. Dropping his crayon, Ian rose and answered the door. He was surprised to see Jackie standing there, but even more surprised that she hadn’t just marched in, as the rest of the family tended to do. 

Holding the door open to allow Jackie entrance, he inquired, “Why did you knock? I’d have thought you’d just come on in.”

“Y’know perfectly well why. I’ve caught ya snoggin’ the life outta my daughter one too many times to just barge in. Everybody else might walk in, but I don’t wanna risk it. How you two still act like lovesick teenagers after so long never ceases to amaze me.”

Though he personally hadn’t engaged in snogging with Rose, he couldn’t help but sheepishly rub the back of his neck at Jackie’s words.

“Sorry I took longer than expected. I got stuck at the bank arguing with some bleedin’ moron who wouldn’t let me make a deposit because I didn’t have my identification. Nevermind the fact I’ve had an account there for fifteen years.”

“Hope you left him breathing,” Ian grinningly teased. 

“Oh button it, ya plum,” she playfully swatted his arm. “Anyway, was Tony too much trouble?” she asked as the two of them made their way to the living room. 

“No, not at all.”

As the two of them entered the living room, Tony raised his head and smiled as he saw Jackie. 

“Mummy,” he cried, running up and hugging her.

“Hello, sweetheart. Did ya have fun?”

“Yup!” he replied happily before returning to his coloring. 

Noticing that not everyone was present, Jackie turned to Ian. “Where’s Rose?”

“She’s upstairs sleeping. She got knackered all of a sudden.”

Jackie’s brow frowned with worry. “Does she need anythin’?”

Shaking his head, Ian said, “Nah…I think she just needs some sleep.”

“What about you, sweetheart? How are ya holdin’ up?” she asked in concern, putting a hand on his arm. 

Her sudden warm gesture took Ian off guard. Up until that point, he’d only seen her fierce protectiveness; but this side was something entirely different. Jackie wasn’t just some tetchy mother-in-law, she genuinely cared about him. 

Finally finding his voice, he answered, “I’m good, thanks.”

“Y’sure? You’re not lying to me, are ya?” she asked him squarely.

“No, I’m really alright,” Ian assured her with a smile. 

Satisfied with his answer, she returned his smile. “Good. We can’t ‘ave you givin’ out on us too. I know you’d run y’self ragged takin’ care of Rose, but you’re just as important. Ya gotta take care of y’self too. Hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, grinning as he gave her a mock salute.

“Ugh!” she groaned, rolling her eyes. “Don’t call me ma’am. Makes me feel old.” Turning to Tony, she said, “Well, it’s time to go home, love. Go put on your trainers.”

Tony looked up at her and frowned. “I don’t wanna.”

“It’s not up for discussion. Go get your coat and shoes. Now.”

Huffing, he threw his crayon down and crossed his arms. “NO! I wanna stay ‘ere.”

Jackie’s eyes narrowed at his disobedience. “Anthony Allen Tyler... Ya ‘ve got thirty seconds to go get your things before I drag ya outta here by your ear an’ not let ya watch telly for a week.”

Bright crocodile tears streaked down Tony’s cheeks, and Ian’s felt a twinge of hurt. “Jackie,” he said quietly, “He can stay. It’s really fine. I promise he’s no trouble. “

Jackie pursed her lips in thought and looked back at her son.

“Please, Mummy,” Tony begged. “I don’t wanna go.”

Finally deciding, she sighed deeply. “Oh alright. I guess if Ian says it’s fine, ya can stay. But you’re comin’ home first thing in the mornin’, ya hear me?”

He nodded his head excitedly and ran up to his mother, hugging her tightly again. Turning her attention back to Ian, she asked once more, “Are ya sure that y’don’t need anythin’ before I go?”

“I’m sure,” he reiterated with a warm reassuring smile. 

“Alright then,” she relented, and pulled him into a hug. Though he was momentarily startled, Ian found himself returning her embrace. She pulled away and smiled at him once more. “Well, I’ll get goin’. Ring if ya need me, or if himself becomes too much.”

“Okay, I will.”

With one more round of hugs for Ian, Tony, and Olivia, Jackie headed out. 

***

Another hour passed and Rose had still not returned downstairs. Ian assumed that she must have been more knackered than he thought, and therefore refrained from disturbing her. Instead, he continued to spend time with Tony and Livy, engaging in whatever activities tickled their fancy. Lunchtime came, and Ian refrained from any further attempts at cooking, instead choosing to make a peanut butter and jam sandwich for Tony and cereal for Livy. Afterwards, the two children began to wind down, obviously ready for a kip. Olivia became rather clingy, tightly clutching his shirt and refusing to allow him to put her down. Still holding her, Ian put on a film of Tony’s choice and settled on the sofa. Tony quickly collected a blanket and curled up beside Ian. It was not long before Ian felt a wet spot form on his chest. Looking down, he notice Olivia sound asleep and drooling on him. His eyes flickered over to Tony and he found him asleep as well. Contentment washed over him as he took in the scene. 

Though he was at complete peace at that moment, Ian decided it was time to check on Rose. Carefully extricating himself from Tony, he gently rose and put Livy in her play pen. He gazed down lovingly at her and gently stroked her chestnut locks, eliciting a soft sigh from the little one. With one more smile, he went to upstairs to see to Rose. As he approached their room, Ian noticed the door open. He frowned, knowing he had most definitely closed it on leaving. Entering the room, he immediately noticed Rose’s absence. Though he didn’t hear the sound of running water, he checked the en suite; but she wasn’t there, either. Knowing that there was no possibility she could have left the house, Ian walked along the upstairs hallway, checking Livy’s room and his office as he did. Finally, he came to the room with a plastic drape over the doorway. Stopping directly in front of it, Ian realized that he’d never actually been in this room. Sure, he’d seen it plenty of times, but he hadn’t once entered. 

Pulling the drape back, Ian stepped in and was instantly arrested by the sight. The room was covered in various intricacies. The ceiling was detailed with moons and stars which cascaded onto the walls. Spectrums of dark blues, reds, and purples covered the walls. The detail was magnificent. As his eyes trailed over the room, Ian saw Rose sitting on the floor, paintbrush in hand and a palette beside her. Dabbing her brush into the paint, she leaned forward and carefully placed it onto the large canvas before her, making delicate strokes to create crimson blades of grass. 

“Ya promised not to come in here till I was finished,” she said, never taking her eyes away from her work. 

“I was worried when I saw you weren’t in bed.”

“Slept enough, and thought I’d work on this for a bit. I’m already behind on it.”

“It’s…it’s breathtaking,” Ian said in earnest. 

Rose turned to him for a brief moment, grinning at his praise. “Thanks. I’m just glad I did the ceiling before I swelled up like a whale. Can’t imagine trying to climb up on scaffolding as big as I am now,” she finished with a chuckle, turning back to her work.

Ian continued to stand there and stare at her in wonder. 

“Ya gonna keep standin’ there or are ya gonna join me?”

Her words shook him from his trance and he walked over, taking a seat beside her on the floor. They sat there silently for a time, while Rose continued to paint the scene. 

“You’re very talented,” Ian told her, finally breaking the silence. 

“Not really,” Rose denied, shrugging her shoulders. 

“Are you joking?” Ian asked in incredulity. “This is extraordinary. All of it. You’re so detailed and imaginative. You bring life to the artwork. It’s…fantastic.”

She turned to him almost bashfully. “Y’really think so?”

“I _know_ so,” he insisted.

She quickly placed a kiss to his cheek, and Ian was instantly overcome with the memories and emotions of their evening together. All too quickly it was over, and she leaned back, her thumb stroking his cheek. 

“Ta, love.”

She looked back down at her palette and began mixing her colors. Ian could tell that she wasn’t focusing on the paint, but was instead thinking seriously over something. 

Finally summoning her courage, she spoke. “Are…are you alright? And please don’t give me that old ‘I’m always alright.’ Just…just tell me honestly.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked, swallowing harshly because he knew the reason for her question. 

“What part of honest did ya not understand?” Rose replied, attempting to contain her ire. 

“I understood all of it,” he retorted, his own tone showing restraint. 

“Then _why_ won’t you just answer me directly?” 

“Because I don’t want to discuss it, Rose,” Ian said lowly, his vexation rising. He’d somehow managed to keep the memories and guilt of that day buried, and here she was trying to get him to open up. 

“I don’t understand wh—"

“Don’t understand what, Rose?” he cut her off hotly, running an angry hand through his unruly hair. “Don’t understand that I don’t want to talk about what happened? That I relive that day over and over again, and for once just want to leave it alone? That I don’t want to think about how I killed my own father? You telling me that’s honestly too hard for you to grasp?”

Rose regarded him quietly, her eyes soft and shining with unshed tears. “No… I don’t understand why you won’t let me in. Why you keep pushin’ me away.”

“Why…why does it matter so much to you?” he asked in quiet earnest, genuinely at a loss as to why this was so important to her. 

“Because,” she started, scooting closer to him, “Because _you_ matter to me. You…you’re everythin’ to me. I made my choice a long time ago, and there’s nowhere I’d rather be than with you. Because if you’re not alright, then I’m not alright. Because you’re a part of me. I belong with you.”

Ian turned from her intense gaze and sniffed. “You don’t mean that.”

“Yes I bloody well do,” she firmly insisted, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look at her. 

“You can’t.”

“And why can’t I? Hmm?” she asked softly, ghosting her thumb across his cheek.

His voice was strained with overwhelming emotion. “Because of who I am… of what I’ve done.”

“I know exactly who you are and what you’ve done. You’re a man who cares so much, that you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. You do whatever you can to help, even if it exhausts you to the point of breaking. A man who never gives up, who takes a stand. A man who tried everythin’ in his power to help a friend when no one else would. A man that his father was _proud_ to call his son. A man,” she moved closer, “who is an amazing father to our daughter and will be to our son. A man who makes me weak in the knees just by taking my hand. Whose smile makes me lose all thought and takes my breath away. You’re my love… _That’s_ who you are.”

Ian regarded her in awe as she spoke. Her unwavering love reached out to him, begging for him to just take hold. To believe. And in that moment, he did. There was no denying her any longer. Slowly and still somewhat unsure, Ian lifted his hands and cupped her face. He could see her longing, her eyes practically begging him to follow through. Obediently, he drew her closer to him and gently captured her lips. At the contact, he felt the tension leave his body, and this emboldened him. The kiss swiftly deepened, becoming needy and somewhat desperate, and he moved to wrap his arms around her back, pulling her as close to him as possible. Rose lifted her hands and threaded them through his hair, anchoring him to her. Ian felt as if he was drowning, but it was a fate he welcomed. Never had he experienced such all-consuming emotions, such longing. Pulling back out of sheer need for air, he rested his forehead against hers as he tried to regain his breath. Rose continued to hold his head in her hands, her fingers stroking his hair. 

Feeling her eyes on him, he opened his own and saw a few tears escape and trickle down her cheek. As their eyes met, a smile overtook her beautiful features.

Searching his eyes, she sighed happily at what she found. “There you are,” she said, moving her hands to cup his face. Placing a few more languid kisses to her lips, Ian pulled her to him, allowing her to bury herself into his chest as he rested his chin on her head. They remained quietly entwined until a small voice broke their tranquility. 

“Rose… I’m hungry,” Tony said sleepily.

“He really _is_ a bottomless pit,” Ian murmured against her hair, inciting Rose to giggle. 

Placing a soft kiss to her head, he reluctantly released her from his embrace and stood. Walking over to Tony, he grabbed him and threw him over his shoulder, causing Tony to shriek in surprise and delight. 

“Alright, little man. Let’s get something to eat.”

“You’re not gonna cook again, are ya?” 

Ian began to grumble, and Rose couldn’t help but laugh as she watched the two of them banter back and forth as they left the room.

***

The day passed rather quickly, as Ian allowed himself to bask in his current reality. Before long, it was time to put the children to bed. Rose gathered an already sleeping Livy and took her upstairs to her room. Since the guest room was now being converted into a nursery, a bed was made on the sofa for Tony, who insisted that Ian read to him. Ian settled on the sofa, and Tony rested his head on Ian’s lap. After three stories, Tony was finally out for the night, and Ian carefully slid off the couch and made his way upstairs. Entering the bedroom, he saw Rose already tucked in, but trying valiantly to remain awake. On seeing him, she gave him a tired smile. 

“Takes ‘im forever to go to sleep doesn’t it?”

“Forever is an understatement,” he replied with a grin, as he stripped down to his boxers and threw on an undershirt. 

Turning off the light, he crawled into bed. Rose moved over and snuggled into him, placing her head on his chest. Now that she was closer, he could see that her eyes were becoming heavier, ready to close at any minute. 

“He’s kickin’ again. Here,” she took his hand and placed it to the swell of her stomach, “Feel.”

At first, Ian felt no movement. Just as he was about to remove his hand, he felt a small but persistent nudge beneath his hand. It was over within a few seconds, but it was long enough for Ian to be effected, and he felt a solitary tear trail down his face. Pulling Rose closer to him, he placed a kiss to her crown and sighed in perfect contentment. It was then that he again allowed his emotions to lead him, and he spoke the words he’d refused to say for too long.

“I love you.”

When no response came, he looked down, and in the moonlight, he saw Rose had finally succumbed to sleep. Placing one more kiss to her head, he closed his eyes and wrapped his arms tighter around her. She may not have heard him, but he didn’t allow that to bother him. He knew there’d be plenty of other opportunities. Content with that knowledge, Ian slowly drifted off.


	15. Every Song Comes to An End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friday, November 8, 2013
> 
> Thanks to Layla Crimson for the new character's last name. All my love! ♥∞
> 
> Alone In This Bed--Framing Hanley

Within the chilled confines of his bedroom, Jack laid flat on his back, blankly staring at the ceiling while his mind was pelted with a barrage of memories. It had been six years. Six years to the day since his family was torn asunder. Thinking about it now, Jack wasn’t sure which was more painful—the death of his father, or the disintegration of his family. He decided that on _that_ day, the breakup of his family was currently the most agonizing. After all that had happened in his life, family was something that held the highest importance. Jack had no recollection of his biological father, as he had passed away just before his third birthday. Not long after his death, his mother, Rachel, decided to return to Cardiff, seeking the comfort of her childhood home and desperate for some semblance of a new start. Though it was much too emotionally difficult for Rachel to return to the States, she made certain that Jack spent the summers with her late husband’s father, realizing his importance in her son’s life. 

Five years after returning to Cardiff, Rachel met Thomas Smith while standing outside Heathrow, both trying to hail an early morning taxi. A fine mist had begun fall and Thomas had insisted, somewhat nervously, that they share. Who would have thought that a chance meeting at 2 AM would have resulted in such a strong mutual attraction? As they approached their destination, both were loath to part, and Rachel was relieved when Thomas stutteringly suggested an early morning breakfast. Once the initial trepidation passed, their conversation flowed, and they were pleasantly surprised to find they had much in common. But the one commonality that stood out the most was that, like her, Thomas was a single parent—also having a son, Ian, who was the same age as Jack. This knowledge served to further endear Thomas to her.

Within two months, they were married in a small ceremony; and for the first time in years, Rachel was fully happy again. Of course, Jack had been and still was her world, but Thomas filled something that had long been absent. And the fact that Thomas accepted Jack as if he was own, just solidified and deepened her love for him. Jack seemed nothing but ecstatic to have, not only a father, but a brother as well. From almost the instant they had been introduced, Jack and Ian had developed a strong comradeship, and Rachel could not deny that she’d never seen Jack so fulfilled. And even though Thomas’ sister, Sarah Jane, had been initially wary of their whirlwind courtship, she quickly and warmly welcomed Rachel and Jack into the family, helping to fully unify them. And just like that, their family was complete. They were happy, and nothing could change that—or so they thought. 

Four years into their new lives, tragedy struck. One afternoon while at work, Rachel suddenly doubled over in pain, and before the medics could even arrive, she was gone. It was soon thereafter determined that she had suffered from an undiagnosed aortic aneurysm. Her sudden passing left them all in complete shock and utterly heartbroken at the loss of the woman they called sister, wife, and mother. But the four of them rallied together, grieving yet helping to heal each other’s wounded hearts. The years passed, and though they were not without their difficulties, the family bond only continued to grow. Thomas watched with pride as his two sons grew into exceptional men, both pursuing a career in law, and eventually joining the same firm. They strove to help those in genuine need, and together they were able to successfully represent multiple clients. 

It was that honest desire to assist others that moved Ian to help Harry Saxon, his flatmate during his years at University. In truth, Jack had never been fond of Harry, finding him slightly irritating and bordering on narcissistic. Honestly, Jack couldn’t comprehend how Ian had tolerated living with him all those years. Jack only had to be with Harry for all of ten minutes before he felt the overwhelming desire to deck him. But he was Ian’s friend, and for the sake of his brother, Jack tolerated the bloody prat.

Thinking of Harry Saxon allowed a new flood of excruciating memories to wash over him, and Jack closed his eyes as he released a shuddering breath. While before Jack had merely dreaded being in his presence, now he cursed Harry’s existence. He still remembered everything that transpired that day six years ago with sickening precision. He remembered, down to the minute, when he had received Ian’s broken and incoherent phone call. Remembered the temperature of the surgical hallway as he burst through the doors and hurried to find his brother. Remembered the moment he caught sight of Ian, crumpled on the floor, divested of his suit jacket, sleeves rolled up, and scarlet hands clutching his head. Remembered placing his hand on Ian’s shoulder, trying to both comfort and garner his attention. Remembered Ian sluggishly turning his gaze upward, his eyes hollow and face void of emotion. 

***

_Remembered…_

_The hallway was deserted, almost eerily so, save for one lone figure slouched on the floor, curled in on himself. The dead silence was shattered when the double doors burst open as Jack blazed through them, desperately searching for his brother. His senses heightened, Jack immediately sighted Ian on the floor, his hands braced on the sides of his head. Jack could almost feel time slow around him as he rushed over and crouched beside Ian, his heart tearing as he felt the unspoken anguish radiate from Ian’s rigid form._

_“What happened?”_

_No response came, and Ian continued to bore his eyes into the wall before him._

_“Ian?” Jack prodded, gently putting his hand on his shoulder._

_At Jack’s touch, Ian flinched, almost as if he had been scalded. It was the first discernible emotion that Ian had conveyed, and Jack wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not. Slowly, painfully, Ian turned his head and allowed his eyes to meet Jack’s for one fleeting moment before turning back to the wall, never once uttering a syllable. When no further reaction came, Jack tried once more._

_“Ian…talk to me. Tell me what happened.” Jack’s tone, while gentle, contained enough amount of firmness to garner a response from his mute brother._

_“Gone…” Ian finally spoke, his voice detached and strained to the point of breaking._

_Jack furrowed his brow, trying to decipher the one-word reply. “What do ya mean ‘gone’?”_

_Again, silence pervaded. Enough panic had surfaced within him, and Jack’s voice became snappish and impatient._

_“Ian!”_

_Ian’s body responded with lightening precision, and he whipped his head around, his previously hollow eyes now blazing._

_“Dead, Jack. He’s dead. Our father is dead.”_

_Ian’s words felt like a blow to the stomach, and Jack sank to the floor beside him. He could feel his pulse bounding in his ears, and he struggled to keep his vision clear. Wiping his face with his hand, he turned his eyes back to Ian, who had returned to his former stoicism._

_“H-how…wha-…,” Jack trailed off as he once again noticed Ian’s stained hands. He swallowed harshly, batting back the acidic taste in his throat. “Is that his?”_

_“Well, it bloody well isn’t mine. No such luck there,” Ian bitterly replied, his hands fisting his hair in rage and anguish._

_“Don’t say things like that!” Jack snapped. He didn’t need or want the idea of losing his brother running through his mind._

_“What do you want me to say, Jack?!” Ian snapped, rocketing to his feet._

_Jack rose to his feet as well, standing in front of him. “I want you to tell me what hap-...”_

_“I killed him!” Ian shouted, his eyes wide with pain and feral rage._

_Jack’s jaw slacked, and he stared dumbly at Ian, unable and unwilling to put any amount of stock into what he had just said._

_“Stop it!” Jack finally responded, harsher than he intended. “Just stop! I know that’s not what happened!”_

_“That’s exactly what happened!” Ian snarled, and began pacing. “It was me, ME! It doesn’t matter if Harry pulled the bloody trigger, I did it! I killed him. I literally have his blood on my hands!”_

***

Feeling hot bile rise in his throat, Jack shook his head, jarring his mind free from the hellish remembrances. Taking a shuddering breath, he looked over at the clock resting on the nightstand beside him. It was already well after 9, and though he had no real desire to venture into the office, Jack also had no desire to slum in bed all day and contemplate how much he’d lost. Nothing good came from dwelling on past hurt, and adding to his morose mood would only make things more difficult when he saw his aunt, Sarah Jane, later that day. He had to be strong for her, even if she was wise to the fact that it was merely a façade. She was also heartsick over the divide that had formed within their family, and the many failed attempts over the years to heal the breach. This last one seemed to have upset her more so than the others, and seeing her pain intensified was almost too much for Jack to bear at times.

Once more, Jack closed his eyes and exhaled a long breath in an attempt to balance himself for the day ahead. Pushing back the now smothering duvet, Jack lifted himself up and sluggishly headed to his en suite to quickly shower before trudging on into work.

***

_“And just what were ya thinkin’, runnin’ off like that with some random bloke ya hardly know anythin’ ‘bout? For all you know, he coulda been a bleedin’ philanderer or murderer or…or…I don’t know…some other sorta nutter!”_

Rose rolled her eyes and looked down at her phone resting on the counter in front of her. “Mum, seriously? Do ya realize how ridiculous y’sound right now?”

_“I don’t care how I sound! The fact is, ya know nothin’ ‘bout this man, and ya invite ‘im to a **family**_ _dinner and then just scamper off right in the middle of it! Not the smartest choice, Rose.”_

“Mum, would ya give it a rest? I’ve told you _multiple_ times, _Mickey_ is the one who told Ian to stay and have dinner with us. And we wouldn’t have run off, if you hadn’t started talkin’ ‘bout your bloody uterus! Who’s the nutter there?”

_“Don’t ya go blamin’ me for your actin’ like some bleedin’ moon-eyed schoolgirl!”_

“I was not moon-eyed, Mum!” Rose protested irritably. “An’ I’m not blamin’ ya for anythin’. I’m simply pointing out that no one needed to hear ‘bout your inner bits. For God’s sake, _Gramps_ was there!”

_“I’ll have ya know, Rose Marion Tyler, tha-…”_

Just as her mum was beginning another round of tirades, Sally walked into the shop, and Rose sighed in relief. Her mind kicking into gear, she immediately took her mum off of speakerphone and held it out to Sally as she approached the counter.

“What?” Sally asked as she dropped her coat onto a nearby stool. 

Rose shrugged, continuing to hold the mobile out for her to take. “It’s for you.”

Frowning in slight confusion, Sally took the mobile and put it to her ear. “Hello?” 

Immediately, Sally’s face twisted and she glared daggers at Rose. _“I hate you,”_ she mouthed. Rose simply smirked and blew a kiss at her. Sally pursed her lips and cocked an eyebrow in irritation.

“No, Aunt Jacks, I don’t know how long Rose and Ian have been seein’ each other….No…no I don’t know anythin’ ‘bout ‘im either, but don’t worry. I’ll make sure I find out all about ‘im. Every. Little. Detail,” she emphasized, looking pointedly at Rose as she spoke. 

Rose narrowed her eyes into slits, causing Sally to respond with a smirk of her own and blow a mocking kiss back at her. Rolling her eyes and sticking her tongue out for good measure, Rose went to the kitchen to finish preparing the scheduled order for Jones, Matheson, & Harkness. 

A good fifteen minutes passed before Sally made her way to the back, handing Rose back her mobile. 

“Y’know, I could kill ya for doin’ that to me. I love your mum, but I swear, sometimes she’s like a dog with a bone!”

Rose pocketed the phone and snorted. “Why d’ya think I said it was for you?”

“An’ for that, you’re gonna pay! Ya better believe I’m gonna make good on my word. I’m gonna get every bit of info I can on that bloke of yours!”

Rose released a growly sigh. “He’s n-…”

“…not my bloke,” Sally finished with her, rolling her eyes at the expected response. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Look, ya can deny it all ya want, but when ya ‘ve got brown smudges round your lips, it’s clear ya ‘ve been eating chocolate.”

Rose’s brows knitted together and her eyes widened in complete confusion. “What does that even mean?”

“It means that you can stand there all ya like and deny that there’s anythin’ goin’ on with you an’ Ian, but all signs point to a different story.”

Releasing a small sigh, Rose tucked a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. “No matter what ya may think, Ian an’ me are _not_ seein’ each other. Not like that, at least. We’re friends, s’all. But if it’ll get ya to leave well enough alone, I’ll give ya one question.”

“Five,” Sally upped, eyes sparkling in excitement. 

“Three,” Rose relented, crossing her arms and taking a firm stance. “And that’s more than generous.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll take what I can get,” Sally sighed, turning to go back to the front.

“Wait!” Rose called after her in surprise. “Aren’t ya gonna ask me anythin’?”

Sally turned around. “If all I get is three measly questions, I gotta make ‘em count. I can’t just ask the first thing that pops into my head. I gotta take some time to think about this,” she finished, looking at Rose as if this explanation should have been completely obvious from the beginning. Without another word, Sally turned on her heel and marched to the front.

***

The last batch of pastries had ten more minutes left on the timer, and after that, the order for Jones, Matheson, & Harkness would be ready to be delivered. It was nearing eleven, and Rose was pleased to realize that she was running ahead of schedule. Even though there had been no complaints, her tardiness with last week’s delivery still perturbed her. It was trying at times to run a business, especially as such a young woman, and Rose had striven to develop a solid reputation. Any personal slip up, even if minor, always weighed on her. 

In between various batches, Rose would man the front with Sally. Normally the conversation between the two of them was easy and thoroughly enjoyable, seeing as they were exceptionally close. However, Rose was in a state of perpetual anxiety as the morning had passed, and Sally had _still_ not taken advantage of her “three question pass.” What was worse was the fact that Sally was taking immense joy in riling her up, making a sly comment here and there, all in an effort to draw out more tidbits of information or a telltale expression. Rose found it most annoying. Honestly, why did Sally have to drag the topic out? Couldn’t she just ask her three questions so Rose could go back to her own secret and delightful ponderings about Ian Smith? 

Much to her relief, while waiting for the last timer to go off, Sally popped off to the chemist’s to collect a prescription, giving Rose a small mental reprieve. It couldn’t have been more than five minutes since Sally had left, before a customer entered the bakery. Rose regarded the woman rather quickly—older, average height, brunette with random strands of gray, and having an air of poise and sophistication. Rose greeted the woman with a warm smile which she reciprocated; though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. 

“G’morning,” Rose greeted cheerily. “How are ya today?”

“Fine, thank you,” the woman replied, a small smile still on her lips. “Yourself?”

“Can’t complain too much,” Rose answered, broadening her smile in an attempt to draw the woman out further. “What can I help ya with?”

The woman’s eyes drifted from pastry to pastry. “I’m not quite sure, to be honest. This is my first time in here. My nephew is always raving about this place, and I thought that today…,” she swallowed harshly, “I thought I’d surprise him with something from here.”

“Oh, really? Can I ask his name?”

“Jack Harkness.”

“Jack? Really?” Rose asked, her eye sparkling with recognition. “I know Jack. Not too well, mind, but still. I’m Rose, Rose Tyler,” she extended her hand, “I own the shop.”

She took the offered hand, her smile a tad wider than before. “Sarah Jane. Lovely to meet you.”

“Likewise. Now then, what can I get ya?”

Once again, Sarah Jane looked at the various displays. “Well, what do you suggest?”

“Hmm,” Rose hummed, pursing her lips in thought. “Let’s see… well, I know he likes the pecan braids. The lavender scones are fairly popular. There’s peppermint bark . Annnd…” Looking around, Rose grinned as a certain item caught her eye. “The banana crème cupcakes are a personal favorite.”

“They certainly look delectable.”

Rose bit her lower lip absentmindedly. “Mm-hmm,” she agreed, a slight blush creeping over her cheeks.

Sarah Jane glanced up at her and had to stifle a chuckle as she saw Rose’s faraway expression. Obviously, the young woman was not thinking strictly of cupcakes. She politely cleared her throat, bringing Rose back to the present. She saw Sarah Jane’s small knowing smile, and her blush intensified, although now out of embarrassment.

“Well, I think you’ve sold me on the cupcakes,” Sarah Jane grinned. “I’ll take two of those and two of the pecan braids you mentioned.”

“Sure,” Rose said hurriedly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She pulled out one of the takeaway boxes from under the counter just as the over timer sounded. Excusing herself, Rose quickly ran to the kitchen and placed the sweet rolls onto the cooling rack. As she returned to the front, Sally came running through the door, drenched. 

“I’m gonna kill that Calypso chick,” Sally growled. “She said it was s’posed to be sunny all day.”

“Doesn’t she do traffic?” Sarah Jane piped up. 

“She transferred over. Doesn’t matter, though. She’s crap at both!” Sally wiped at arms, vainly trying to dry herself off. She plodded over to Rose, flinging her purse to the counter. 

“I have a spare hoodie in the back,” Rose offered.

“Thanks,” Sally said, plaiting her wet strands as she went to retrieve the hoodie.

Sarah Jane looked out the window at the steady rainfall before turning her frowning face back towards Rose.

Assuming the woman had walked to the bakery, Rose said, “I’m gettin’ ready to make a delivery to Jack’s law firm. If ya’d like, you can ride over with me.”

Sarah Jane was somewhat surprised at the offer. She turned her eyes to the rain and then again to Rose. “Are you sure? I don’t want to trouble.”

“No, no, no,” Rose shook her head. “’S no trouble at all! Lemme just pack up the sweet rolls, and then we can set off.”

***

Thirty minutes later, Rose and Sarah Jane found themselves stuck in bumper to bumper traffic, thanks to a three vehicle pileup. For the umpteenth time, Rose fought back the urge to beat her head against the steering wheel. Here it was—raining, traffic backed up, and her most influential client’s aunt was riding shotgun for all of it. Rose glanced out of her periphery and saw Sarah Jane staring out the window, an unreadable expression on her face. 

“I’m so sorry ‘bout this, Sarah Jane,” Rose said in earnest, grimacing at the poor impression she must be making.

Sarah Jane remained silent, seemingly deaf to Rose’s words. 

Rose reached her hand out hesitantly and touched her shoulder. “Sarah Jane?” she called again, her voice gentle and laced with just a hint of worry. 

“Hmm?” Sarah Jane answered, turning her head towards the young woman. She had been so lost in thoughts and recollections of the day, that she hadn’t realized that Rose was talking to her. 

“I was just sayin’ I’m sorry ‘bout getting’ stuck. You’re probably wishin’ ya’d just walked there. Ya mighta gotten soaked, but least ya’d be there by now,” Rose said with an apologetic smile.

A small smile graced Sarah Jane’s lips as she shook her head in response. “No, not at all. The extra time is…helpful.”

Taking in the woman’s manner, Rose’s brows knitted together. The look Sarah Jane was wearing was near identical to the one she had seen on Jack’s face last Friday. Overcome with the desire to be some sort of help, Rose summoned her courage and spoke.

“Sorry. I know this probably isn’t my place, and please feel free to tell me to ‘shut it’ but…is everythin’ alright?” On seeing something in her eyes alter, Rose fumbled onward. “’S just…well…Jack had the same look on his face last time I saw ‘im. I could tell somethin’ had really shaken ‘im. And I thought maybe I…,” she trailed off and worried her bottom lip, nervous and unsure of herself. She should really learn to mind her own business. She didn’t always have to try and fix everything. 

Sarah Jane silently stared at her for a moment, unsure of what to say. The sincerity in Rose’s words and demeanor was surprising, but pleasantly appreciated. Seeing that Rose was becoming exceedingly uncomfortable, Sarah Jane reached over and patted her hand reassuringly. 

“It’s alright, Rose. I appreciate your concern. I can’t speak to what was bothering Jack, although I think I remember that day you’re speaking about.” Sarah Jane sighed as she continued. “It’s a difficult time of year for our family. Their father—my brother—died six years ago today. It was a rather…violent death.”

Rose felt tears come to her eyes as she witnessed Sarah Jane’s efforts to manage her pain. She squeezed Sarah Jane’s lingering hand, trying to impart comfort since words felt inadequate. Sarah Jane turned her eyes toward Rose, who smiled affectionately at her. She returned the smile with one of unspoken gratitude. 

A word in Sarah’s last statement caught Rose’s attention. “You said ‘their’…I didn’t realize Jack had siblings, that is, I’ve never heard ‘im mention any.”

She nodded her head faintly. “Just one. A brother. It’s just the three of us now—me, Jack, and Ian.”

Rose felt her stomach drop and the blood rush to her ears. Ian? _Her_ Ian? Surely not. Although something in the recesses of Rose’s mind told her that it was highly probable. Ian, though never by name, had mentioned that he had a brother. Then there was the way he grew tense and closed off when she’d attempted to ask about his father. Still…the likelihood of this woman being his aunt… Granted, they were constantly being thrown into each other’s path, but this? Wasn’t this just too much? Rose could feel her mind pull in opposing directions. She desperately wanted to ask more questions, but at the same time, she knew it wasn’t her place to pry more than she already had into this woman’s life. 

“I think we’re finally starting to move,” Sarah Jane said suddenly, turning her eyes to the traffic. 

“What?” Rose responded distractedly, turning her head forward. “Oh, moving…right.” She forced herself to halt her racing thoughts, and focus on the task at hand. There would be time for things like breathing later. 

***

Ian didn’t want to wake up that morning. Waking up meant that he was back in the present— a present where Rose wasn’t his, where his little Olivia didn’t exist. He just wanted to sleep the hours away until he could awaken to find Rose cuddled into his side, her arm wrapped possessively around his middle. But that was not an option, and Ian knew it. He also knew that he couldn’t ignore the significance of the day. It was doing its upmost to shove its way to the forefront of his mind, but years of experience allowed Ian to stifle its assault; instead, allowing it to dwell in the background and send its pain in waves. 

As Ian reluctantly made his way out of bed and readied for the day, he was astonished to realize that this was the first anniversary where he’d not suffered from nightmares. In fact, since he had been rotating between realities, Ian had only had one nightmare. A rarity, that. More times than not, his sleeping hours were tormented with images and impressions of that day, and all the mistakes he had made. But today, today there was no such torment. Ian found himself wishing even more to be in the other reality. His wife—his Rose—had somehow managed to keep the nightmares away, to ease the pain that was far too often crippling. Now Ian was about to live through this hellish anniversary for the second day in a row, and he wondered how he’d manage the day without her presence. An overwhelming part of him wanted to find her and just hide away, but Ian swiftly talked himself out of that idea. He had no claim to Rose in this reality. Nothing was definite here. In the other, she was his completely, irrevocably. Here? Well, ‘here’ was an unknown, and Ian didn’t do well with unknowns. 

Ian spent much of the morning reexamining his caseload, examining each file meticulously. Roughly around 1, Ian’s mobile began to ring. Picking it up, he saw that it was Jack phoning. Ian silenced the ringer, but didn’t decline the call, instead staring at the screen as Jack attempted to reach him, his thumb hovering over the _Answer_ key. Time ran out, however, taking the decision away from him. He continued to stare silently at the mobile in his hand, unsure what action to take next. Just then, _New Voicemail_ appeared on the screen. This time, without hesitation, Ian tapped the icon to listen to the message. 

_Hey… it’s me. I don’t figure you’ll actually listen to this, but…(sigh)…Aunt Sarah and I are going by the cemetery around four. We...I get it if you don’t wanna come, but we just really want to see you or at least hear from you. Anyway… I guess that’s it… Bye._

When the message ended, Ian rested his hand against his mouth. He wasn’t sure where to go from there. Every year since his father’s death, Ian had steadfastly ignored all of his family’s attempts to contact him on that day—it was just too much for him. But as he sat there and continued to replay Jack’s message over in his mind, Ian found himself reaching a decision. Before he could fully process his actions, Ian was already pulling on his coat and walking past Cathica. 

His hand on the doorknob, Ian turned to her long enough to say, “I’m unreachable for the rest of the day. No exceptions,” and then left without preamble. 

****

A stiff breeze blew through the nearly vacant cemetery, stirring up whatever leaves had managed to remain relatively dry despite the earlier rain. In response to the cold, both Sarah Jane and Jack pulled their coats taut. 

“At least it stopped raining,” Jack said, filling the silence that had recently descended.

Sarah Jane smiled softly at him. “Yes, I guess we can be grateful for that.”

Another few beats passed before Jack sighed and looked over at his aunt. “He’s not coming. You know that, right?”

She faintly nodded. “I’m aware of that probability.”

“Then why are we still waiting here, in the cold, while it gets darker by the minute?” 

“Someplace else you need to be, Jackson?” she asked, gazing upon him with slight disappointment. 

Jack sighed inwardly at the full use of his first name. Obviously Sarah Jane wasn’t pleased with his desire to leave. “No. No, I don’t. I just don’t like either of us getting our hopes up, only to have them crushed yet again.”

Her expression softened as she laced her arm through his. “I like hope. Hope’s a good emotion.”

Jack squeezed her arm reassuringly. “Yes, yes it is.”

After another small pause, Sarah Jane initiated a new topic. “So that Rose Tyler seems like a nice one.”

“Yeah,” Jack nodded, “Yeah, she is.”

“So… anythin’ there?” 

“With me and Rose?” On seeing her nod, Jack snorted. “No. Nothing there.”

“Why not? Don’t tell me she’s not your type, because I know that’s pure nonsense. She’s breathing. Based on your previous choices, she’s already met criteria.”

Jack, though marginally ruffled by that remark, couldn’t help but smirk. “I’ll have you know that my taste is becoming more refined.”

“Happy to hear it. Now, answer my question.”

He ran a hand through his hair as he answered. “I don’t know. I mean she’s gorgeous, but… I just don’t get that… vibe, I guess you can call it, from her. I see her and I think ‘friend,’ not ‘girlfriend.’”

“Hmm…”

“What?”

“That’s rather mature of you, Jack,” Sarah Jane said with a teasing grin. 

“I know,” he mockingly shuddered, causing both of them to laugh. Another breeze swept through, and Sarah Jane shivered at its frigidness. 

“C’mon,” Jack said, leading her towards the exit, “I’m starving.”

Giving the darkening area one more sweep, she nodded and allowed Jack to guide her out of the cemetery, neither of them aware of the shadowed Ian watching them in the background.

****

Rose was exhausted, no doubt about it. After finally managing to deliver both the baked goods and Sarah Jane, Rose had returned to the bakery to find Sally and Isobel swamped with customers. The day continued to be hectic, barely allowing Rose time to use the loo. After closing up, she did some necessary shopping before tiredly stumbling into her flat around 7. As she entered the flat, her arms laden with grocery bags, she was immediately greeted by the sight of Martha and four others surrounded by books and papers. She recognized three of them as Martha’s classmates, but the fourth was unknown to her. He was tall, blond, and didn’t appear too far north of 25. On hearing her entrance, they all looked up, and the unknown blond quickly rose to his feet and helped her take the bags to the kitchen.

“Thanks,” Rose said, still confused as to who this man could be.

“My pleasure,” he smiled, his green eyes sparking at her.

“Uh, not to sound rude, but who are you?”

“Right, sorry. We’ve never actually met, have we? Fenton Buchanan,” he extended his hand, “I’m in several of Martha’s classes.”

Warily, but with a small smile, Rose shook his hand briefly. “Rose, nice to meet you. So… you’re here ‘cause?”

“I’m desperate,” Fenton answered somewhat sheepishly. “I’m not one for these group study sessions, but it’s final exams, and Martha’s at the top of the class. Seemed stupid to not take advantage of the opportunity to get a bit of extra help.”

“Well, Martha’s brilliant. You’re in good hands. Well,” she sighed tiredly, rubbing her eyes, “Thanks for your help. Good luck with the studying.” Without waiting for a response, Rose left the kitchen and walked towards her room, leaving an admiring Fenton in her wake.

An hour later, a freshly showered Rose was curled up in bed, searching through her Kindle library. Over on the nightstand, her mobile began to ring. She reached, and on glancing at the ID, smiled as she answered.

“Yes, Sally?”

_“So… I think I’ve got ‘em.”_

“Got what?” Rose frowned into the phone.

_“The questions. I think I’ve decided on what I wanna ask.”_

Rose couldn’t help the slight groan that escaped her. “Alright…fine. What are they?”

_“Alright. Number one—have ya kissed?”_

“Uh…define ‘kiss.’”

_“Defi-…Lip smashed against lip.”_

“Then no, we haven’t kissed.”

_“Hmm…the definition bit means some kind of physical contact happened. But, shelving that for now. Okay, number two—what’s your favorite part?”_

“Part of what?” Rose asked confusedly.

_“Of Ian! What is it—hair, eyes, teeth, bum…?”_

Rose felt a steady blush come over her at Sally’s question. “I dunno,” she mumbled. 

_“Oh, please! Don’t hand me that!”_

“What, I’m serious! I like the whole package.”

_“Whatever…You’re no fun. So, final question—is he it? The one ya say you’re waiting for.”_

Rose felt the sudden need for air. Before she could reply, Sally spoke again.

_“And don’t give me the ‘it’s too soon’ or the ‘I dunno.’ Deep down, what do ya think—is he the one you’re waitin’ on?”_

Rose swallowed harshly at the nervous lump in her throat. Taking a breath, a smile curled her lips and she replied with firm conviction.

“Yeah…yeah, he is.”

****

Ian laid there for a long while in the dark of his bedroom, allowing the thoughts and events of the day to process. He’d almost approached Sarah Jane and Jack several times. But each time, fear and guilt restrained him. He just couldn’t bring himself to do it, no matter what warred within him. 

As his eyes became heavy, Ian heard music coming from the above floor. Even in his tired state, something in the melody struck him as familiar, and he focused the remaining amount of his faculties onto the sound. It was only a few notes before Ian identified the song— _Fever_. Immediately, his thoughts turned to Rose and her altered lyrics. Recollections of her image and voice drew a smile to his lips, and it was those impressions that were on his mind as he finally drifted off.

****

As dawn ascended, Ian turned onto his side and immediately registered Rose’s absence. He extended his hand further towards her side of the bed, but was met with only cold sheets. He groaned outwardly.

“Rose,” he called tiredly.

There was no response. Bracing himself on his elbow, he began rubbing his sleep ridden eyes. “Rose, if you’re trying to sneak off again, I-…”

The words died on Ian’s lips as allowed the room to come into focus. 

_No. No, this isn’t right…_

Ian could feel the panic rise in his chest and he scurried out of the bed, throwing open the bedroom door. As he took in the surroundings, Ian felt everything come crumbling down around him. Rose wasn’t there. There was no way she _could_ be there, because Ian had awoken in his flat. 

_No. No, no, no… This can’t be happening!_

The room now spinning, Ian stumbled over to the nightstand and grabbed his mobile. On hitting the _Home_ button, he saw something that literally brought him to his knees. It was Saturday, November 9th.

_2013._


	16. What Happens Now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saturday, November 9, 2013
> 
> When You're Gone--Avril Lavigne

Ian was in complete ignorance of how much time had passed as he lay on the floor, his body flaccid and slumped against the bedframe. The harsh darkness of his bedroom was consuming him, leaving him almost physically numb. The utter anguish he felt at that moment was nearly kin to the anguish he felt when he remembered his final moments with his father. Both losses tore his heart. How could he have been so foolish, so stupid? How could he have allowed himself to be deceived into believing that that happiness would last? He’d given in, allowed himself to feel, to… _love_. And once again, Fate had condemned him to a life of regret and desolation. 

Finally tearing his eyes away from the sterile white wall in front of him, Ian took in his surroundings, his eyes finally focusing on the open bedroom door. He stared through it and into the empty hallway, only blinking his eyes when physically necessary. It was almost as if he was attempting to will Rose to appear. Deep in his soul, he yearned for her. Ian’s ears strained to hear any sound that belonged to the life that had been taken away—Olivia’s elated squeals, her calls for him, the soft entrancing melody of Rose’s singing, the warmth and devotion conveyed as his name rolled off her tongue. And not just by the name the majority used, but rather, his given name—Cillian. He’d never been fond of it for reasons that still eluded him. Most often it was used by his father during a reprimand. But, hearing the name from Rose’s lips was anything but reprimanding. She said it with such warmth and tenderness that it almost felt like a caress, even when she had practically purred it at him to get her way. 

Yet, no matter how hard he endeavored to hear those dulcet tones, they were nowhere to be found. Ian found his mind being ravaged with emotions and he harshly swallowed the lump in his throat that was suddenly making it extremely hard to breathe. Trying to rein himself in, he roughly dragged his hands through his hair. Finally finding some semblance of strength, Ian pulled his knees close to his chest and rested his elbows on them, bracing his head in his hands.  
  
That action caused his mind’s eye to be slammed with images of a deserted surgical hallway, and his hands suddenly felt sticky as the memory became eerily tangible. Violently jerking his hands from his head, he stared down at them in terror, half expecting to see them once again stained crimson. At seeing they were free of such taint, he released a shuddering breath. 

The sensory overload became too much to bear and the acidic taste of bile flew into his mouth. Rushing into the en suite, Ian barely made it the sink before heaving the contents of his stomach. He silently cursed himself for showing such weakness. For releasing the hold he had on his emotions. For falling in love with an illusion. Turning on the faucet, he filled his palm with cold water and rinsed his mouth out before splashing his face. Taking a few cleansing breaths, Ian looked up and stared at his reflection; his face was pale and drawn, and the familiar guard had returned to his eyes. As he continued to focus on the image in the mirror, one thought began to break through cacophony warring in his mind—Rose. He had to find Rose. 

****

Rose was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate on her work. Isobel was manning the register and training the new hire, Meg, which allowed Rose to experiment with a few recipes and decorating techniques. But as hard as she tried, she could not focus on the tasks in front of her. The conversation with Sarah Jane continued to replay over and over in her mind. Though she didn’t have any definite proof, Rose couldn’t help but feel with complete surety that she had indeed met Ian’s aunt and brother. What should have been a happy realization was overshadowed by the small detail Sarah Jane had shared with her—that Ian’s father had been violently killed. 

Though no other details had been divulged, Rose’s heart still broke for Ian. It would explain why his countenance darkened and became pained when the topic of his father had been brought up. However, she couldn’t surmise why he wouldn’t directly refer to Jack or his aunt. If that was his only family, wouldn’t he have mentioned them? Even during their conversation outside St. James’ Park, Ian had simply said, “my brother.” Nothing more. Why wouldn’t he use his name? 

Suddenly a burnt odor wafted over her, and Rose whirled around to face the oven. Through the glass pane, she saw that what was once white batter was now charcoal black. She threw open the door, allowing the mix of heat and charred pastry to hit her full-force. Scowling, she picked up the pan and angrily threw it into the sink, flinging on the faucet. Once the contents were thoroughly saturated, she turned off the water and braced her arms against the cold metal. The worry for Ian and the frustration of the unknown coupled with the ruined remains of her baking suddenly culminated with her angrily slamming her hands against the sink. 

“Hey, Rose?”

“What?!” she snapped, turning her head towards the voice. 

Isobel’s head jerked back slightly and her eyes widened at Rose’s outburst. Realizing her uncalled for reaction, Rose sighed and ran her hand through her hair. 

“Sorry, Bel. I didn’t mean to snap at ya. I’m just frustrated ‘cause I spent all this time tryin’ to figure out this new recipe, and then stupid me burnt the bloody thing,” she finished, gesturing to the sink. 

“S’ok, sweets. I just wanted to know how much ya wanna charge for the Kahlua Crème Cups. Ya forgot to price ‘em.”

“I dunno…you can decide. Makes no matter to me,” Rose answered wearily, turning back to the sink and sighing once again. 

Frowning at Rose’s uncharacteristic behavior, Isobel walked over and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. 

“Y’alright?”

Rose looked up at her, forcing what she hoped was a believable smile. “Yeah. M’fine.”

Isobel’s lips twitched, as if she wanted to say something to the contrary, but she refrained. She knew when Rose was holding back, but she also knew when and when not to push a matter. Right now was one of those times that Isobel knew she needed to be patient; she’d draw it out of her later. Giving her a small parting smile, Isobel returned to the front.  
  
As she watched Isobel walk away, Rose chastised herself for allowing her temper to get the better of her. Needing a moment to think, she sat down in her chair and rested her head in her hands. She struggled to calm her thoughts and process them methodically, but it was to no avail. But even though her mind continued to race, there was one thought that remained clear and insistent—Ian. She had to see Ian. Her mind decided, Rose stood, pulled her hair back into a ponytail, and touched up her makeup. Grabbing her bag, she mumbled a quick explanation to Isobel and Meg before hurrying out of the bakery and to the only place she could think of to look for him. 

****

Cathica hated the fact that she had to go into the office. Saturdays and Sundays were the only days she had to herself; it was one of the reasons she didn’t complain too much when she had to work long hours during the week. She would work herself to exhaustion Monday thru Friday; all she asked for was the weekend. Unfortunately, Ian’s random arrivals and short hours that week had put multiple things behind schedule, making it a necessity for her to be there. After allowing herself a good half hour to gripe, Cathica put her irritation aside and focused on completing her tasks as quickly and competently as possible. 

It was nearing noon, and Cathica was putting away the last of the completed files when there was a sudden knock followed by the slight opening of the door. 

“H-hello?” said a feminine voice.

Cathica walked over to the door and pulled it open further, revealing a blonde young woman. Furrowing her brow in confusion, Cathica asked, “May I help you?”

The young woman smiled, but Cathica could tell she was nervous. Tucking an imaginary strand of hair behind her ear, the woman made eye contact with her and finally found her voice. 

“Sorry… I didn’t mean to interrupt anythin’, I was just, uh, looking for Ian. He works here, yeah?”

Cathica narrowed her eyes in appraisal. “And you are?”

“Oh, sorry. Didn’t mean to be rude. I’m Rose Tyler. Nice to meet you,” she said smilingly, extending her hand.

As she shook Rose’s hand in greeting, Cathica’s features softened as she realized that this woman wasn’t some nutter looking to make a scene, which given Ian’s conviction record, could have been a real possibility. 

“Cathica Kadanie. Sorry but he’s not in.” Rose’s disappointment on hearing this was not missed, and Cathica spoke up again. “Do you want to leave a message for him?”

“Uh…yeah,” Rose replied, rummaging through her bag for a pen and scrap piece of paper. On finding both, she quickly scribbled before folding the note and handing it to Cathica. “If y’could give ‘im this, I’d really appreciate it.”

Taking the small piece of paper, Cathica finally offered Rose a small smile. “Certainly.”

With another nervous smile and slight wave of her hand, Rose turned and left a curious Cathica in her wake. 

****

The sidewalks were fairly congested, but Ian was unaware of the passersby. He still wasn’t sure what he was thinking; but the truth of the matter was he wasn’t _thinking_ —he was _feeling_. His mind demanded a reason for his actions, censured him for them. But it wasn’t his mind that was urging him to find Rose. No, this was something instinctual leading him. However, this didn’t stop Ian from inwardly struggling with it. 

Finally approaching the shop entrance, Ian lifted a shaky hand and opened the door. Approaching the counter, he immediately recognized Isobel, who was currently engaged in conversation with a petite raven haired girl, who couldn’t have been more than sixteen. On hearing the opening of the door, she ceased speaking and turned her attention to him, smiling brightly as he approached the counter. 

“Hey! ‘S good to see ya,” Isobel greeted enthusiastically. 

Ian attempted to smile, but it appeared more like a grimace. Isobel noticed this, and her smile faltered ever so slightly. 

“Y’alright, Ian?” 

“Of course. I’m always alright,” he replied automatically. As the words left him, he could hear Rose’s voice admonish, _“Don’t do that…I know what that means.”_

Isobel furrowed her brow for a moment, clearly gauging the honesty of his answer, before smiling at him once again. “What would you like?”

_My wife… My child… My life…_

Running a hand through his hair, Ian looked absentmindedly over the displays, poorly feigning interest. Isobel could plainly see that he was not there as a customer; he was there for personal reasons. Grinning playfully, she brought up the unspoken reason for his visit. 

“Rose’ll be back soon, if ya wanna wait for a bit.”

On hearing her name, Ian’s eyes snapped to meet Isobel’s. “She’s not here?”

The intensity in his eyes and the strained tone of his voice greatly disturbed her. Something was definitely not right. 

“No…she’s gone,” Isobel replied hesitantly, almost as if fearful that it was the wrong response.

An undiscernible look flashed in Ian’s eyes and his manner completely altered. Straightening his stance, he sniffed and nodded. “Right, well… I’ll just be going.”

At a loss for words over what had just transpired, Isobel could only watch as a now stoic Ian turned and left the shop. 

****

Ian couldn’t retreat fast enough. All he could hear was Isobel’s last words.

_“She’s gone.”_

They rolled over and about, crashing like waves upon him. 

_Gone… Gone… She’s gone…_

_Rose is…gone…_

_I’ve lost her…_

****

“Please explain to me how _I_ got roped into feeding a hoard of near barmy wannabe doctors?” Donna grumbled as she attempted to navigate her way into the flat with a mountain of takeaway pizzas.

Rose popped out of the kitchen and rushed over to help Donna with her load, grinning as she took in her best friend’s irritated scowl. “Because you’re Donna and you’re brilliant and without you, the whole world would come to an end.”

“Well…when ya put it like that…,” Donna trailed off, now returning Rose’s grin and following her into the kitchen. “So…who’s all comin’?”

“Dunno,” Rose shrugged. “Martha didn’t say. Just said bring food. Lots ‘a food. Oh, and a ridiculously huge bottle of Patrón which I’ve been instructed to keep hidden until everyone leaves.”

Donna snorted in amusement at Martha’s requests, already eager for the nonexistent guests to leave so the three of them could enjoy themselves freely. After placing the boxes on the counter, Rose resumed her earlier task of washing the dishes. Donna watched her silently for a minute or two before moving beside her, picking up a dishcloth and drying as Rose washed. 

“Soo…”

Rose looked up at her briefly in silent acknowledgement. 

“Will anyone special be joining us? Maybe a certain skinny streak of a prosecutor?” 

“No, he’s not coming. An’ I wouldn’t call ‘im skinny…”

Donna raised an eyebrow at that. “Oh? Then what _would_ ya call ‘im?”

Rose shrugged her shoulders and focused intently on the plate in her hands. A playful smirk appeared on Donna’s face as she noticed Rose’s avoidance. 

“C’mon, now,” she prodded, bumping Rose with her hip and widening her grin. “You’re the one who opened the door. What do you think about him?”

Feeling a heat to her cheeks, Rose ducked her head enough to allow her hair to cover her face. “I dunno… He’s… Well, he’s…”

“For cryin’ out loud, Rose, finish the sentence!”

Releasing the dish, Rose put one hand on her hip and looked directly at Donna. “Ya really wanna know what I think of ‘im?”

“Desperately.”

“Fine, ya wanna know what I think, well here ya go—he’s by far the most gorgeous man I’ve ever met. When he smiles, my mind goes completely blank and it takes every bit a strength I’ve got to not lunge at ‘im and snog ‘im till one of us blacks out from lack of air. And his hair…God, I just wanna run my fingers through it over and over,” she said, slightly out of breath from her ramble.

“Alright. So I think we’ve established that ya think he’s a bit fit,” Donna chuckled.

“Oh, he’s more than bit fit,” Rose grinned before biting her lip. Suddenly her face softened and her eyes became thoughtful. “But it’s not just that, Donna. He’s… I dunno, there’s just somethin’ ‘bout ‘im. He’s funny. He’s interesting. We can just talk ‘bout nothin’ at all, and it means more to me than anythin’ else. I wanna know everything there is to know ‘bout ‘im. I find myself thinkin’ about ‘im every day. Have been since we first met and I… I just wanna be with him… all the time.”

She turned her gaze back towards Donna, only to find that she was looking at her with warm, glistening eyes. Donna had never witnessed such a sight. Rose Tyler, her best friend in the entire world, was completely and irrevocably in love. Donna put her hand to her mouth, stifling the small sob of happiness that threatened to break forth. When she pulled back her hand, a brilliant smile slowly overtook her features.

“Oh wow…,” she chuckled. “You’re done for.”

Rose blushed, averting her eyes and tucking her hair behind her ear. Though she said nothing in reply, Donna knew Rose completely agreed.

****

Several hours later, Rose and Donna found themselves surrounded by Mickey, Martha, and half dozen hopefully soon-to-be doctors. The evening was pleasant enough. Martha’s friends were entertaining, especially since the stress of exams had lifted. Despite that, Rose was quite tired and simply wanted a hot shower and to lounge in bed. Deciding to remain for another ten minutes, Rose got up from her place on the sofa and retrieved a now cold slice of pizza. As she walked back to the living room, she noticed Donna was no longer on the sofa. Instead, there was the tall blonde from the other evening sitting next to her waiting seat. Frowning slightly, Rose took her seat, smiling politely at the man next to her. 

“Fancy meeting you here,” he quipped with a grin. 

She chuckled, broadening her smile. “It’s Fenton, yeah?”

“Got it in one, Rose.”

As his eyes remained on her, sparkling and inquisitive, Rose felt herself tense just a tad. She wasn’t making more of his look than was truly there, was she? Maybe it was all in her mind. He was just being friendly, no ulterior motive. Forcing herself to relax, she grabbed her drink and took a long sip. 

“So, Rose, what do ya do for work?”

Moving her eyes discretely about the room, Rose realized that the others were engaged in various conversations, leaving it just her and Fenton. 

“I run a bakery.”

“Sounds fun. 

“Yeah, I love it,” she replied with a small smile.

Fenton’s grin grew at seeing her smile. He couldn’t help but think how even such a small action further added to her beauty. Taking a sip from his drink, he continued, “So what made you decide to do that? Your mum a cook or somethin’?”

Rose couldn’t suppress the snort at that question. “No, definitely not my mum. She’s got a few things she makes well, but overall she’s no gourmet.” 

Fenton laughed and Rose allowed him a moment before continuing, “Actually, it was my gran. She loved baking. Dad says it’s why he was a chubster while he was little. Anyway, every time I stayed with her, she’d show me how she did things. It was fun, and it kinda stuck with me.”

His smile firmly in place, Fenton adjusted his position on the sofa, now just a bit closer to her than before. Rose felt the tension return as she watched him. Fenton’s expression became more inquisitive and he opened his mouth to speak. 

“Oi!” Donna’s voice halted him. “I pop off to the loo for two minutes and ya steal my seat? Off with ya,” she instructed, swatting at him.

Fenton’s eyebrows met his hairline in surprise, but he got up anyway. Grateful for Donna’s return, Rose felt her tension subside. Fenton seemed like a nice bloke, but she wasn’t interested. Hopefully he would pick up on that fact. She continued to sit beside Donna for a few more minutes before telling everyone goodnight and heading off to the shower. 

Fenton watched Rose leave, smiling as her pleasing figure disappeared from sight. He turned and saw that, thankfully, Donna was still present on the sofa. Based on their interaction throughout the evening, It wasn’t hard to realize that Donna and Rose were close friends, something that was about to become very helpful. Getting up from his spot on the floor, he walked over and took the free seat next to Donna. She turned and looked at him, lifting a brow questioningly. 

“Donna, right?”

“Uh-huh,” she replied, eyebrow still in place. 

“You an’ Rose are pretty close, yeah?”

“Yeah, we are… Why?” she replied slowly, not sure she liked where he was obviously headed.

“Well, maybe you can tell me a bit about her. Like, is she with anyone?”

She blinked at him, determining what response to give him. Rose and Ian weren’t _exactly_ together, though Donna knew Rose wanted to be and could tell Ian obviously felt something very strong for her. 

“Sorry, mate, but she’s interested in someone,” she answered, hoping that response would be enough to dissuade him. 

“But she’s not actually in a relationship,” Fenton inferred.

Donna’s eyes narrowed at him. “Maybe ya didn’t hear me, she’s interested in someone. Someone who isn’t _you_.”

He merely took a drink and smiled at her before getting up and returning to his seat. Donna watched him leave, glaring unseen daggers as he did so. 

_That bloke’s gonna be trouble,_ Donna thought. _No doubt about it._

****

Rose sat on her bed with her computer resting on her lap. The shower had helped to relax her muscles and ease some of the worry out of her. But now, as she stared at the search bar on the screen, Rose felt some of that earlier tension return. Sarah Jane’s words had remained on the edge of her mind all day, and now that she was in the privacy of her room, she decided that she needed to know more.

After trying various combinations of words, Rose finally found something that looked promising. She scrolled over the link but stopped short of clicking on it. She wanted to know more, needed to know more; but she couldn’t help the guilt that suddenly came over her. Was this intruding on their privacy? Was it wrong to find out more? Shaking her head at the jumble of thoughts trying to confuse her, Rose clicked on the link. 

_Reputed financier and philanthropist, Thomas Edward Smith, was gunned down yesterday in the lobby of Morrison & Stamford while visiting his son, Ian Smith—a young rising solicitor within the firm. Sources say that father and son were on their way out of the lobby when the gunman, identified as Harold Saxon, exited the lift and pointed a gun at the two men._

Rose felt her heart constrict as she read the account. Though already able to surmise the ending, she forced herself to continue reading.

_Saxon (whom Ian Smith was representing at the time) began speaking somewhat incoherently as he continued to keep the weapon trained on the two men. Witnesses stated that the younger Smith attempted to convince Saxon to put down the gun, but that Saxon “suddenly snapped” and swiftly turned the gun and fired pointblank at Thomas Smith. Before he was able to fire again, Saxon was subdued from behind by two guards who finally arrived to the floor. Witnesses also stated that Ian Smith fiercely attempted to save his father. Unfortunately, after being rushed to New Hope Hospital, Smith was pronounced dead upon arrival. Thomas Smith is survived by his two sons, Ian Smith and Jack Harkness (son by marriage), and his sister, Sarah Jane Smith._

Unable to read the rest of the article, Rose firmly closed her laptop. She felt hot tears burn her cheeks and she fiercely wiped at her eyes. A literal ache had formed in her chest as had read the account, and she wanted nothing more than to find Ian and throw her arms around him—absorb his pain and grief, to bear it with him. To know that not only that his father had been murdered, but that Ian had witnessed it and tried in vain to save him. Rose couldn’t even begin to fathom the pain he’d experienced. Just knowing that he had gone through such tragedy filled her with overwhelming pain and sadness. Suddenly, the look she’d seen in his eyes began to make sense to her. It was pure agony intertwined with another emotion that still eluded her. 

Another flood of tears broke forth and she laid on her side, curling into herself. As her eyes grew heavy, Ian’s face remained before her. Rose’s last thought before sleep finally claimed her was that she wished she could’ve been there to hold his hand. 


	17. Before the Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sunday, November 10, 2013
> 
> Again--Lenny Kravitz

The living room was engulfed in darkness save for the gray light cast through the panes and onto Rose's curled up figure. It had been hours since she had awakened from a fitful sleep and had made her way to the sofa.

Typically sleep was not something that easily evaded her; but that night, Rose's slumber had been assaulted by repeated images of Ian's face contorted in pain and hands soaked in scarlet, struggling to save the faceless figure of his father. The images were not well-defined, but their impressions were incredibly clear. She felt more than she saw, and it completely devoured her, strangling the air out of her lungs. The effect on her mind and body finally became so intense that it tore her away from her tumultuous slumber. Rose jolted upright in tandem with the crack of lightening outside, her body trembling and breathing ragged. Knowing she'd be unable to get a solid night's rest, and not even caring by that point, Rose scooted out of bed and walked out towards the main part of the flat, grabbing her well-worn hoodie and pulling it over her head as she left her bedroom.

Plodding through the hallway and into the chilly kitchen, Rose put on the kettle and leaned her back against the counter as she waited for it to boil. Faint images from her horrid dreams attempted to resurface and she wiped her tired eyes. Within a couple minutes, the kettle began to whistle and Rose went about making herself a steaming, and hopefully calming, cup of tea. Sluggishly, she walked across the cold carpet and made herself comfortable on the sofa, pulling her knees close to her chest. Silently she remained seated there through the early morning hours, sipping on her tea and staring at the storm raging outside the window. 

****

Time passed and the storm began to wane, reducing the previous downpour to a persistent drizzle. The sun attempted to breach the skies but they held fast to their grey nature. Martha finally rolled out of bed and trudged towards the living room, fully intending to spend the day vegetating in front of the telly and getting takeaway. For the first time in months, she had nowhere to be and nothing expected of her; Martha deserved a day of mind numbing reality shows and boxes of curry. As she entered the living room, Martha saw Rose sitting stoically on the sofa, her knees pulled taut to her chest and resting her chin upon them. Martha couldn't help but frown in worry and confusion when she saw Rose. For one, it was before eleven on a Sunday; and two, she was just sitting there without as much as a lamp or the telly on to brighten the room. Without another thought, she flipped the light switch, causing Rose to whirl her head around and attempt to glare through squinted eyes.

"Oi! What's with the light?"

"You were sittin' in the dark like some sorta vampire, but seeing as ya didn't go poof when the light went on, it's safe to say we can rule that out."

Rose gave a weak eye roll. "Clever."

"I try," Martha replied with a grin before heading towards the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. 

"Light off, please," Rose called after her. 

"Nope!" Martha yelled back. "Time to join the land of the living."

She could hear Rose grumbling in the background, but paid her no heed and went about finishing the coffee, preparing a cup for both of them. As she walked back into the room, she saw Rose leaning over the back of the sofa, her arm extended, and trying to flip the light switch with the remote. 

"What are you doin'?" 

Startled by Martha's sudden voice, Rose jumped and the remote fell out of her hand and onto the ground.

“I’s tryin’ to shut off the light,” she answered, as if it had completely obvious. 

Martha cocked an eyebrow. “Ya coulda just walked over and flipped it. It’s like, what…ten steps?”

“I didn’t wanna get up,” Rose shrugged, adjusting her position on the couch and reaching out for one of the cups in Martha’s hands. 

Snorting and giving an exasperated eye roll, Martha handed a mug to Rose before stooping, picking up the remote, and plopping down next to her on the sofa. She turned on the telly and began searching through the channels, not really looking for anything in particular. As she brought the hot liquid to her lips, Martha caught a glimpse of Rose out of her periphery. There was definitely something odd with her. It wasn’t just that she was up early; it was also the fact that she was just sitting there, her eyes far away, and cuddling her mug as if she was trying to warm her whole body. 

“Rose?”

Martha’s beckoning went unnoticed.

“Hey,” she tried again, nudging Rose with her foot.

Finally Rose looked over at her. Even though she was looking directly at Martha, Rose’s eyes still showed she wasn’t completely present. “What?”

“What’s wrong? You’re hardly ever up this early on Sundays.”

“’S nothin’,” Rose answered, shrugging her shoulders. “Just couldn’t sleep.”

“That’s not like you,” Martha said after taking a sip. 

Rose rubbed at her tired eyes again. “Well, I had a nightmare.”

“That’s _really_ not like you,” Martha said, furrowing her brow. “What was it about?”

Taking a long sip from her mug, Rose quickly thought over what answer to give. Even though the account was public knowledge, she felt that relating it would somehow betray Ian. Sound logic, no; but till she knew more, Rose was sticking with her gut feeling. 

“Eh, was all sorta fuzzy…,” she replied as she waved her hand about. “But I really don’t feel like talking ‘bout it.”

“Fair enough.” Martha switched the television over to Netflix and began searching through their queue before selecting _Say Yes to the Dress._

That immediately caught Rose’s attention, and she began to shake her head. “Oh, no. No, no, no. I’m not watchin’ this. I’m way too tired to watch vapid cows natter on ‘bout th-…”

“Well you don’t have to watch it, but _I_ am.”

“Since when do you get to decide what we _both_ watch?”

Martha turned and looked at Rose, arching an eyebrow in defiance. “Since this is my first free day in over two months. So the only time I’m leaving this sofa is to get food and go to the loo.”

Rolling her eyes, Rose leaned over and attempted to take the remote. “C’mon… Just pick somethin’ we both wanna watch.”

“Back off, Blondie. This is my day and I’m spending it how I want! Which means watchin’ rubbish telly and stuffin’ my face,” Martha hollered as she twisted back and forth, attempting to balance her coffee and still keep the remote away from Rose’s clutches. “Let it go!”

The tug of war continued about a minute longer before Martha finally yanked the remote away and hid it underneath her bum. 

“Ha!” Martha cried in childish triumph. “Now ya can either play nice and join me, or go away and amuse y’self someplace else. Your choice.”

Huffing, Rose shuffled off the sofa and walked towards her room, flicking Martha on the forehead as she passed her.

“Oi!”

Rose said nothing discernable in reply, merely scowling and grumbling under her breath. Grabbing her mobile off her nightstand, Rose unlocked it and scrolled to her selection. A few rings later, the line was picked up.

_“Hello?”_

“Hey, ‘s me. You working?”

_“For a lil while. At least three more hours. Why? Y’alright?”_

“I’m comin’ round. Be there in twenty.”

_“Okay. See ya in a bit.”_

****

Donna lowered her mobile from her ear and pocketed it, furrowing her brow slightly. It hadn’t escaped her notice that Rose had sidestepped her question. Donna hadn’t been able to pick up on anything in particular, but there was this niggling sensation in the back of her mind that told her something was off. Call it intuition, call it brilliance, but it was a trait that over a decade of friendship had proven reliable. 

Sunday’s lunch hour was often steady, but thanks to the weather that morning, patrons were fewer than norm. Donna found herself grateful for the slower pace. She was only there to take inventory and make a few minor inspections, and she didn’t feel like manning any lunch hour madness. In truth, Donna was exhausted and didn’t even want to be there at all, but ever since her assistant up and quit two weeks prior, she’d been forced to juggle everything singlehandedly. 

Her head was halfway in the freezer when she heard the kitchen door slam against the wall. Startled, Donna stepped back and whirled around towards the offending noise, her eyes blazing. However, the anger boiling within her began to cool as she took in the odd spectacle before her. Lynda Moss was standing there in her usual uniform of black trousers and white button down, except there was now a hideous, oversized plaid beanie atop her head. Her eyes were red and blazing, jaw was locked, and her nose was red and stuffy. Clearly she was not only furious, but also had been crying. 

Normally Donna would have torn into whoever was being so thoughtless and causing such a ruckus, but this was Lynda—one of the sweetest and bubbliest individuals in existence. Whatever had happened to cause such a change in character must have been quite serious, so Donna bit back her reproof. 

“What is wrong? And what on Earth is on your head?”

At the mention of “head,” Lynda’s eyes flashed and immediately glistened with tears. “A pipe busted in my building, so I crashed at my mate Rebecca’s flat.”

“’Kay…,” Donna replied slowly. “Still doesn’t explain the horrid beanie.”

“Rebecca’s got two little girls.”

Donna blinked rapidly, her frustration growing with each “non-answer.” 

“Who like to play hairdresser...while you sleep.”

Dreadful understanding dawned on her, and Donna’s eyes widened. “Oh no…”

Lynda yanked off the beanie to reveal her hair. What had once been shoulder length and wavy, was now in two small pigtails on the top of her head. By the way her pigtails stuck up, the locks were clearly cut jaggedly.

Donna threw her hand over her mouth, trying to stifle both her horror and her laughter. She knew she shouldn’t find Lynda’s misfortune funny, but she just couldn’t help it. Though she was definitely angry, Lynda’s new “haircut” made her seem like a pouting child, and Donna couldn’t suppress her amusement any longer and a snort escaped her. 

Lynda glared at her boss, but the fire quickly faded and her eyes became glassy. She buried her face in her beanie, her shoulders slightly shaking with silent sobs. Donna instantly felt remorse and she rushed over to Lynda, wrapping her arms around her and stroking her back comfortingly. 

“I’m sorry, sweetie. It’s not funny. It’s…,” Donna bit her lip to contain her chuckling, “It’s _not_ funny.”

“I look like some overgrown jacked up Barbie doll,” Lynda sobbed. 

“No you don’t.”

Lynda pulled back and looked up at Donna, her eyes hopeful. “Really?”

“Well…maybe just a bit,” Donna admitted, causing Lynda to bury her head back into Donna’s shoulder. “But it’s fixable. It’s not the end of the world. And it’ll grow back.”

“I hate those demon spawn,” Lynda mumbled. 

Donna laughed outright at that. “That’s the harshest thing I’ve ever heard ya say.”

Lynda pulled back and wiped at her face, sniffing as she did so. “Oh.. I didn’t really mean it. They’re actually very sweet girls. They said they just wanted to make me look special for work. They honestly didn’t mean to butcher my hair.”

“Well, like I said, it’ll grow back. For now, ya can wear that thing till ya get it fixed.”

Sniffing again, Lynda finally gave a small smile and tugged the beanie over her head. “M’kay. I think I’m good now. At least for a bit. Can’t guarantee that I won’t lock myself in the loo and sob a few times, but for right now, I’m alright.”

“Good,” Donna said with a smile. “Now get out there and get to work.”

Lynda giggled, but continued to stand there. 

Donna frowned slightly. “No, seriously, get out there. It’s the lunch hour and there’s only one hostess.”

“Oh, right,” Lynda said and scurried out to the front, leaving Donna chuckling behind her.

****

Jack Harkness stepped through the doors to _Rendezvous_ , and shook the raindrops from his coat before running a hand through his dark wet locks. Looking around, he took in the quaint surroundings and was immediately impressed with what he saw—the dark rounded tables, soft lighting, brass ceilings, and overall inviting atmosphere. He also took that moment to search for the reason for his visit, Rose; but she was nowhere in sight. There were several diners, a few servers, and a young woman wearing a ridiculous beanie. Jack couldn’t help the soft chuckle that escaped him as took in her appearance. 

Knowing it was a long shot, Jack approached the young hostess, flashing a brilliant smile which she readily returned.

“Hey there. I was looking for someone. Her name’s Rose Tyler.”

Her smile instantly froze at the mention of Rose, something which puzzled Jack. 

“Uh… I don’t think she’s here. Well, that’s to say…uh, can I ask who ya are?” she fumbled nervously, remembering the last time an unknown man came into the restaurant looking for Rose.

“Jack Harkness,” he answered, extending his hand and widening his smile in an effort to put her at ease. 

It seemed to work and she shook his hand, the worry lines in her forehead softening. “Lynda. I didn’t see her when I came in, but it’s quite possible she came in after I got here.”

“Do you mind checking for me? I’d really appreciate it,” Jack asked with just enough charm to make Lynda blush shyly. 

“Um, yeah, sure. Just, uh…just give me a mo’.” 

Jack winked at her. “Thanks, Lynda.” 

Her blush deepening, she quickly turned and rushed towards the kitchen. Jack stuck his hands in his pockets and continued to look around as he waited for Lynda to return. It couldn’t have been more than two minutes before he heard firm, hurried footsteps approaching him. Jack turned and instead of seeing the smiling Lynda or even Rose, he found himself face to face with a fierce redhead. It came as a surprise to him that he found himself immediately taken with the woman, even though her eyes were blazing in his direction. 

“Hi,” Jack squeaked before clearing his throat, “I-…”

“What do ya want?” she demanded, getting to heart of the matter.

Jack was taken aback by her brusque manner, but remained composed. “I’m looking for Rose Tyler.”

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Yeah, got that,” she countered curtly. “I wanna know why.”

“I just wanted to speak with her for a minute.” 

The woman’s tone remained steely, and her gaze narrowed. “Why?”

Judging by her stance and demeanor, this woman was clearly a force to be reckoned with, but Jack refused to yield. What he wanted to say was for Rose, and Rose alone. 

“I can tell that you’re obviously close to Rose, or else you wouldn’t be standing here, ready to tear into me. But frankly, it’s not any of your business,” he replied, his tone both equal parts kind and firm.

She raised an eyebrow defiantly at him. “Oh really?”

“Yeah, really. I can appreciate that you’re playing watchdog, so let me assure you, I’m here purely out of good motive.”

She seemed to seriously ponder his statement, giving his person a once over. Jack couldn’t help but grin at her examination, even if it wasn’t meant to be flirty in the slightest, and he boldly returned the gesture in kind. The faintest shade of pink graced her cheeks as she noticed his appraisal, and she cleared her throat. 

“Well, she’s not here. But she will be shortly. So ya can wait over there,” she pointed to a free table in the far back, “and I’ll let her know you’re here when she shows up.”

“Thanks,” Jack said sincerely.

The redhead merely nodded in reply and turned on her heel to leave. 

“I don’t even get a name?” 

She turned around, her eyebrow arched. “Why do you want one?”

“It’d be nice to put a name to the pretty face.”

Her eyebrow remained arched as she pursed her lips. “Donna.”

Jack’s grin grew brilliant at her answer. “Nice to meet you, _Donna_. I’m Jack.”

The tiniest of smiles tugged at the corners of her lips before she wordlessly turned around and walked back to the kitchen. 

Allowing another minute to grin after her, Jack finally walked over to the aforementioned table to wait for Rose’s arrival. 

****

Roughly ten minutes later, Rose came into the dining room and walked over to Jack. At seeing her, he stood and offered her a hug which she reciprocated happily. When they pulled apart, Jack could see that she was surprised and confused at seeing him. He motioned to one of the chairs and they both took a seat. 

“It’s always good to see ya, Jack; but I gotta be honest, I’m sorta at a loss as to what you’re doin’ here. How’d ya even think to look for me here?”

“I tried calling the bakery, but it was closed. Then I remembered that every time you make a delivery, you always leave a flyer for this place. Just this one, never anyplace else. I figured there must be a reason for it.”

Rose smiled and cocked an eyebrow. “Wow. Impressive job at connecting the dots.”

“It’s what I do,” he quipped, chuckling with Rose. His face then became serious as he looked up at her. “I wanted to thank you for what you did for my aunt.”

“I really didn’t do anythin’, Jack,” Rose answered, furrowing her brow. “I just gave her a lift so she wouldn’t get rained on. You really didn’t have to come all the way down here to thank me for that.”

“No,” he shook his head, “not that. I mean, I do ‘preciate that, but I was referring to how you treated her. Yesterday was… it was rough day, and you were kind to her. Tried to draw her out. Listened to her. It seemed to help lift her spirits, and for that I want to say thank you.”

Memories of Sarah Jane’s pained expression and the horrid account of Thomas’ murder hit Rose full force, and she swallowed the painful lump in her throat. 

“It really wasn’t much.”

“It may not seem like a lot, but trust me, to us it was.”

A beat passed before Rose spoke up, unable to hold back her knowledge anymore. “I’m so sorry for what happened to your dad. I can’t even begin to understand what you all went through… ‘specially Cillian. I ju-…”

At the mention of his brother, especially her use of ‘Cillian,’ Jack’s head jerked back and his eyes widened. “How… How do ya know about that? About my brother?”

Rose’s hand shook as she tucked her hair behind her ear. “I… I met ‘im ‘bout a week ago. And yesterday, Sarah Jane mentioned that it was just you, her, and Ian. I… I didn’t… I wanted to know if it was the same Ian I knew. I did some digging and found out… well, I read ‘bout what happened.”

For a moment, Jack silently stared at her. Unsure of how to interpret his silence, Rose hastily spoke again. “’M sorry if ya feel like I stuck my nose where it didn’t belong. It’s just when I thought it could be _my_ Ian, I went a bit spare and needed to find out.”

Jack’s eyebrows met his hairline as he noted Rose’s possessive connotation in regards to his brother. “It’s public knowledge, Rose. There’s no reason to apologize for finding out something everybody has access to. That’s just nonsense.”

Rose nodded and smiled in relief. 

“What I’m actually more surprised about is the fact you know my brother. Ian’s not… well, he’s not really a sociable person. Least not anymore.”

“If it helps, he was a complete wanker the first couple times I met ‘im.”

“So you’ve spent actual time with him? More than once?” Jack pursued further. He was very interested in knowing what kind of person Ian was around Rose, and the exact nature of their relationship. 

“Uh, yeah… five ti-… I mean a few times,” Rose stumbled and turned her head, blushing at the fact she knew the exact number. 

Jack grinned at her flustering and the blush that colored her cheeks. He was quickly surmising that Rose had a thing for his brother. 

“So… would you call these dates?” 

Her head jerked up at Jack’s question. “Wha’? No… No, not dates.”

“So what were they?” Jack chuckled.

Rose’s blush intensified and she worried her bottom lip. She studied him for a moment, trying to gauge his motive for asking. On seeing that he was genuinely interested and not just having a laugh, Rose took a breath and regaled him with the details of their interactions. Of course, she left out a few details, such as their moment of attraction in the lift and their last parting. As they talked, Rose could see that even during periods of laughter, Jack’s eyes held a trace of forlornness. 

“D-Does…,” he cleared his throat, “Does he seem happy?”

The question took Rose by surprise, though not as much as it should have. “I don’t know. The last few times we were together, he seemed more at ease. But… but I could still see there’s somethin’ weighing on ‘im. It’s in his eyes… He’s…it’s like he’s in pain.”

Jack’s forehead creased and he nodded his head. Reaching her hand across the table, Rose squeezed his hand and smiled softly at him. “Can I ask ya something?”

Slight hesitation passed over Jack’s eyes, but he nodded his head. “Sure.”

“You two aren’t close anymore, are you?”

“No, we’re not,” Jack said softly, clearly troubled by the acknowledgement.

“Why?”

Leaning back in his chair, Jack sighed wearily. “Honestly, I’m not sure. We used to be incredibly close. When we were kids, we were practically inseparable. Got into all kinds of trouble. But after our father died, things just… changed. He wasn’t the same. I tried, Sarah Jane tried, but we couldn’t get through to him.”

Rose felt a lump of restrained emotion in her throat and she swallowed harshly. Composing herself, she pressed on. “What happened to the man that shot your dad?”

Jack instantly tensed and his jaw locked. “Jail. Not the outcome I wanted, but at least Harry’s no longer plaguing society. I never thought that he’d do something so…so heinous, especially to our family. Not after everything we did for him.”

Rose’s eyes widened and her jaw slacked in shock. “Y-you knew him? This ‘Harry’? Ya actually had some sorta connection with ‘im?”

“Unfortunately, yes. He roomed with Ian while they were at university. Harry was always a bit narcissistic. Definitely a smooth talker. I was never his biggest fan, but for some reason, Ian befriended him. Harry had it rough growing up, so Ian was always looking out for him. After they graduated, they didn’t really stay close. Ian and me got hired on at a firm together and Harry, he joined some PR firm. Don’t remember which one. Anyway, Harry came under investigation regarding some information that was being leaked out about several of his more influential clients. Pretty sensitive stuff. So, he played on Ian’s sense of loyalty and he agreed to represent Harry. I didn’t like the idea of Ian not having backup when it came to that jerk, so I joined the defense. 

But the further the investigation went, the more we learned about Harry. He’d had some issues during school. I chalked it up to behavior or personality quirks. But then his fiancé, Lucy, came forward about how bad off he was. They weren’t just quirks; he was genuinely disturbed. She said he was becoming increasingly abusive and paranoid. Harry was evasive whenever we tried to push the subject, even hostile at times. We searched further and found out…”

Jack took a breath and looked off to the side. Rose could tell that he was weighing some decision in his mind. Looking back at her, Jack continued.

“We found out that things…weren’t what we thought. Turns out that Harry was being treated for schizophrenia. Had been since he was a teenager. I tried to tell Ian that we needed to turn the case over to another attorney, that it was best to distance ourselves, but he wouldn’t do it. Said he couldn’t give up on him, that everyone deserves a chance. Part of me thinks that he felt guilty that he didn’t pick up that something was wrong with Harry during their time at university. When Harry realized how much we found out, his behavior just escalated from there. He disappeared for a few days before showing up at our firm and…”

Jack trailed off and wiped his face, as if he was trying to clear all traces of emotion. Rose felt hot tears prick her eyes. She could just envision the scenes playing out. Her heart ached for Jack and Sarah Jane, but especially for Ian. She already felt so emotionally vested in him, that this added information affected her greatly. Hearing how he went to bat for his friend, never giving up on him, made Rose’s heart swell with admiration and something akin to pride. It showed a strength of character and feeling that endeared him more to her. 

Rose was completely aware that Jack had withheld several details. He had chosen his words carefully, and she couldn’t fault him for not divulging more. The event may have been public knowledge, but the intimate details were not; and Rose wasn’t actually a close friend. However, that didn’t dampen the desire Rose had to know everything. She had this almost unquenchable thirst to know every detail about Ian. _Her_ Ian, because that’s what he was now— _hers_. Rose couldn’t explain it, couldn’t rationalize it, but the fact remained that Cillian Smith had somehow become an integral part of her being. 

Forcing herself to focus on the man before her, Rose once again reached over and squeezed Jack’s hand. “I’m so, so sorry, Jack. I know that doesn’t change anythin’ that happened. And I know we aren’t that close, but I want you to know that honestly _do_ care.”

Jack patted her hand and smiled brightly at her. “I know you do. It’s one of the things I like about you, Rosie.”

“Rosie?” she asked with an arched brow.

“Don’t like it?” Jack chuckled.

“Normally I’d say no, but it kinda fits comin’ from you,” Rose answered with a smile. 

“Well, I’m honored,” Jack grinned, giving a mock seated bow. The two of them shared another chuckle before Jack stood up and began walking to the door. “I should probably get going. Time for you to get back to that fiery friend of yours.”

“Yeah, I heard she intercepted you. You’re still walking though, couldn’t ‘ve been too bad,” Rose laughed.

They had just reached the door and Jack stopped and turned towards her. Grinning, he shook his head. “Not bad at all. I actually wouldn’t mind a repeat performance.”

Rose’s eyes widened and sparkled in surprise. “Hmm… Good to know.”

“I’m actually surprised _your_ Ian made it out alive after meeting her.” 

Jack’s face broke out in a wide knowing grin. Rose felt a heated blush instantly on her cheeks as she realized what she had let slip earlier. Jack immediately laughed and gave her a parting hug. 

“Later, Rosie.”

Rose couldn’t help but stare wide-eyed after him, her mouth slightly agape. Shaking her head at her foolish slipup, she turned and walked straight into Donna.

“Soo…” Donna drawled.

“Soo…?”

“Bright Eyes leave?”

Rose grinned cheekily. “Staring into his eyes, were ya?” 

“No!” Donna scoffed, but averted her eyes briefly. “He has eyes, they’re bright, and I’m being snarky.”

Rose snorted. “Sure. Keep tellin’ y’self that.”

“Oh, shut it!”

Laughing heartily, Rose put her arm around her faintly blushing friend as the two of them returned to the kitchen.

****

Dr. Jillian Fields quietly read over a series of progress notes as she waited for her patient to arrive. She wasn’t quite certain about what to expect from this new case, but she was slightly wary. Two days ago the head psychiatrist, Paul Holden, retired which resulted in the dividing of his caseload among the three remaining house psychiatrists. Absentmindedly clicking her pen as she read, Dr. Fields began formulating a list of questions. 

According to his history, the patient came from a broken family. Parents divorced at age 9, using him as bargaining chip and pawn in their interactions. Narcissistic tendencies. No lasting relationships. Began exhibiting symptoms of schizophrenia around age 16 in the form of auditory hallucinations. Treatment started within two months. Severe escalation of symptoms around age 25, including onset of paranoia, culminating in homicidal aggression. 

Dr. Fields furrowed her brow as she reviewed the treatment prior to incarceration. There were hardly any specifics; most of the information was vague. Much was written, but it all seemed designed to confuse and divert attention from what was really significant. She recognized the name of the former psychiatrist—a celebrated physician whose legacy was marred by the discovery of unethical practices. 

Her contemplation was interrupted by the sudden sound of the door opening. Looking up, she saw her orange jumpsuit cladded patient enter, his blonde hair slightly disheveled. The escorting guard physically directed the man to the seat directly across from her. The prisoner regarded her with an intense stare, and Jillian fought the urge to fidget in her seat. A sudden chilling grin crept up his cheek, almost as if he’d sensed her discomfort. 

Steeling herself back into stoic professionalism, Jillian straightened her posture. “Hello, Harry. I’m Dr. Fields, and I’ll be taking over your treatment. How are you today?”

Harry’s eyebrow slowly arched. “And where’s our dear Dr. Holden?”

“I know you’re fully aware of his retirement,” she said pointedly. “Dr. Holden discussed it with you in length.”

“Went through with it, did he? Shame, that. He reminded me of Timmy.”

“Timmy?” Jillian questioned. 

“Oh, don’t play coy, Dr. Fields,” Harry responded, a sly grin forming. “I know _you’re_ fully aware of who Mr. Timmy is. You’ll not do yourself any favors playing the fool.”

Her face remained completely passive as he spoke. “Did you always have an informal relationship with Dr. Rassilon?”

The muscles in Harry’s face tensed and his eyes became cold as ice. “Tell me, Jillian, do you enjoy the thrill of playing Lord and Master?”

Jillian felt her heart literally skip a beat. He’d called her ‘Jillian.’ How had he come to learn her name? Even though it wasn’t an impossible fact to discover, it was extremely unsettling to be unexpectedly confronted with it. She forced herself to take a silent, calming breath.

“Lord and Master of what?”

“Come, come, dear doctor,” Harry said lowly, tilting forward. “You hold all these sullied minds in your ‘educated’ hands, eager to bend them to your will. To mold them for your pleasure. Spinning your web of smooth words. Does your spine tingle with anticipation? Does your pulse quicken as you sit back and wait for your work to come to fruition?”

An unnatural chill seeped into Jillian’s bones, and it took every fiber of her being to appear unaffected. “You’ve appeared to have given a lot of thought regarding such behavior.”

“It’s fascinating, to hold someone’s life in your hands. The power…,” he trailed off, nearly shivering in delight. 

“Did you feel as if Dr. Rassilon played Lord and Master with you?” 

An indescribable emotion passed over Harry’s eyes. “Rassilon flew too close to the sun, and went down in flames. Quite literally too. Poor Timmy… Trapped inside as his glorious estate burned to the ground. Tragic accident, that. They never found the cause, did they? Oh, well…”

Taking control of the situation, Jillian turned the discussion in another direction. “Is that what you were doing with Thomas Smith—playing Lord and Master?”

“That was Judge and Jury. Sins were committed and punishment needs rendered.”

Jillian arched her brow. “Needs?”

“Oh, yes, my dear Dr. Fields,” Harry grinned, “I’m not done yet.”

 

 

**Please note that I don't have extensive knowledge of schizophrenia, and everything I have written is in no way a standard and is purely for story purposes**


	18. The Skies Darken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Monday, November 11, 2013
> 
> Breathe--Melissa Ethridge

He didn't want to wake up, of that he was certain. Waking up meant another day in complete emptiness. A life without... 

"I know you're awake."

Ian could feel his heart seize at the sound of that voice. He recognized those melodic tones, knew instantly to whom they belonged. But, no, he was not going to open his eyes. He refused. 

A soft finger grazed the contour of his jaw. "C'mon, love. Time to open your eyes."

No, he couldn't do it. He just cou-...

"Y'know ya want to."

He could hear that brilliant smile lighting her voice. Oh, God, did he want to open his eyes. 

"Cillian," her voice caressed, "Look at me, love. Just open your eyes."

Ian couldn't fight it any longer, and his eyes fluttered open. The bedroom was illuminated in a soft white sunlight, but he immediately saw her lying next to him. She was propped up on her elbow, slightly hovering over him. 

This couldn't be, Ian knew that; but he couldn't stop himself from venturing forward.

"...Rose...," he whispered.

She smiled that brilliant smile he adored and wiggled her fingers at him. "Hello."

An instant ache of longing seized his heart, and Ian swallowed harshly at the lump in his throat. "Wha-..."

"Ya can't sleep forever, love."

"It's better than waking."

Rose stroked his forehead, her smile softer now. "Even if I'm waiting for you?"

Ian desperately wanted to reach up and touch her, trace her face, feel her skin beneath his fingertips; but he held fast in his restraint.

"You're not."

"Oh, but I am."

He shook his head. "No, no you're not. You're not real."

Her fingers ghosted down his cheek before she finally cupped his face. 

"You need to wake up now, love."

"I don't und-..."

"Cillian...," Rose said softly, closing her eyes and resting her forehead against his, tendrils of her hair grazing his face, "Wake up."

Instantly Ian's eyes flew open and he recognized the cold and unfeeling environment. Not wanting to see but unwilling to close his eyes again, Ian laid his arm across his face, blocking everything from view. 

He had been right–Rose hadn't been real. She wasn't there waiting for him; she never would be. The thought alone caused a sudden tightness in his chest, and he focused on controlling his breathing. Ian was sick of this. His nights taunted him, and his days reminded him that he was alone, empty. 

Taking his arm away, Ian stared at the ceiling as he contemplated. This was what he deserved, he reminded himself. Whatever that other supposed "reality" had tried to convince him of had been a lie. This life, his current life, was the true reality. 

Ian recollected how he had failed everyone–Harry, Jack, Sarah Jane, his father. All of them. The guilt was overwhelming. He should have realized Harry's condition early on. Should've listened to Jack when he said to hand it over to someone else. If he had listened, their father would never have been ripped from them. But Ian didn't listen, and he would always the bear that responsibility. 

It was those fundamental truths, those circumstances that bored into Ian's mind that the life he'd experienced with Rose was nothing more than a fantasy–a beautiful, enriching, unbelievably powerful fantasy, but a fantasy nonetheless. Ian relentlessly cursed his foolishness for being taken in by anything else. Well, he was through with being a fool.

It was definitely time for him to wake up. 

****

“Thanks. Have a good one,” Rose said sweetly as she handed the takeaway bag to the customer in front of her. The woman offered a smile in response and promptly exited the bakery. Rose began tidying the displays, restocking whatever pastries and breads were left. She was so focused that she didn’t hear Sally’s approach or her calling out to her.

“Rose? Earth to Rose…”

Rose spun her head towards Sally. “Hmm? Oh, sorry. Sorta zoned out there.”

“Yeah, figured that,” Sally grinned, “What I was saying was are you sure ya don’t mind me being gone for so long?”

“’Course I don’t. It’s only three weeks, and it’s been ages since you’ve seen your mum,” Rose assured her. 

“Well, air tickets to New York aren’t exactly small change.”

“True,” Rose agreed. 

Sally walked over to stand next to her and leaned her forearms against the counter. “Sure ya don’t wanna come with me?” she asked, bumping her hip against Rose’s. “I know Mum would love to see ya, and I can always use some backup.”

“As much as I’d like to see Aunt Bev, y’know I can’t just pick up and leave.”

“C’mon, Rose. When’s the last time you took a holiday?”

“What about last month?”

Sally rolled her eyes and sighed exasperatedly. “Going to Cardiff for the weekend to visit Gwen and Rhys does _not_ count. I mean an _actual_ holiday. One where ya go and relax and get away from ev’rythin’ and do somethin’ just for you.”

“I dunno,” Rose shrugged. 

“Exactly, which is why ya should come with me to New York. Y’know ya wanna.”

Sighing, Rose ran a hand through her hair, pushing it out of her face. “Sally-…”

“Just think about, yeah?” Sally pressed. 

“Alright,” Rose relented. “I’ll think ‘bout it.”

Sally’s lips widened, morphing into a brilliant grin. “Good. I’m gonna pop off to Nawab’s for some chicken tikka. Want anythin’?”

“Eh, think I’m fine for now. I might go get somethin’ later.”

Sally nodded before grabbing her bag and heading out. Rose smiled and shook her head as she watched her leave. Once Sally got an idea into her head, she was relentless. Although Rose had to agree with her, it had been a long time since she’d had a break. In truth, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d actually taken more than three days together for herself. It wasn’t as if she was purposefully avoiding it; she was just so preoccupied with everything else, that she hadn’t given the idea of a holiday much thought. 

It would be nice to get away for a bit, Rose inwardly acknowledged. Plus she hadn’t visited Aunt Bev ever since she’d remarried and moved to the States. And Rose had always wanted to travel, and now would be as good a time as any. Maybe she should…

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the ringing of her mobile. Seeing who it was, Rose smiled and hit _Accept_. 

“Yes?”

 _“Rose…we’re bored,”_ Jake whined.

She snorted. “Sounds like a personal problem.”

_“And we’re hungry.”_

“I don’t see how that’s got anythin’ to do with me, Jake. And who’s ‘we’?”

_“Me and Mick. We’re doin’ a job and it’s more complicated than we thought. Stupid gits who they hired before us apparently didn’t have a bloody brain in their skulls and we gotta take out the whole thing and clear the syst-…”_

Rose rolled her eyes irritably and cut him off mid rant. “Jake?”

_“Wha’?”_

“Why are ya callin’ me?”

_“I just told ya. We’re bored and hungry and we want you to bring us food.”_

“You’re not the only one who’s gotta work, y’know? I have this thing called a business that requires I actually stay and do my job.”

_“Bet I could change your mind.”_

“Doubt it,” Rose grumbled, getting increasingly annoyed with Jake and Mickey’s whiny behavior. 

_“Turns out we’re workin’ not too far from you, in this really interesting government building. ‘S practically a landmark.”_

“Sounds fascinating.”

_“It really is, actually. Seems we’re a few floors down from a certain prosecutor… oh, what was his name? Ethan? Adam? Evan?”_

Rose felt her breath catch and her eyes widened. They were working in Ian’s building? Jake was messing with her, right? She could hear their snickering in the background, and she narrowed her eyes, gripping the mobile tighter.

“Are ya havin’ a laugh? ‘Cause if you are, I’m gonna-…”

 _“I’m not, Rose. Promise. Micks and me are down here in Ian’s building. I just thought you’d like to know that nice lil’ bit of info. Soo…,”_ he drawled, _“How ‘bout that lunch?”_

Rose could practically hear the smug grin in Jake’s voice; he’d played his cards right, and he knew it. Even though she didn’t appreciate the manipulation, Rose would be lying if she’d said she wasn’t happy at the prospective of seeing Ian. Molding her face to hide her rapidly growing smile, Rose sighed into the receiver.

“Alright, just tell me what ya want…”

****

Thirty minutes later, Rose found the room where Jake and Mickey were working. Seeing as both of her hands were occupied, she kicked at the closed door, trying to gain their attention. Almost immediately, the door was jerked open. 

“Finally,” Mickey said, grabbing the pizza box out of Rose’s hand and walking over to Jake.

“Sure, no problem. You’re welcome. Oh, me? I’m fine thanks,” Rose grumbled sarcastically, glaring as she watched Jake and Mickey shove pizza into their mouths. 

“Oh, sorry. Thanks, Rose,” Mickey replied, his answer garbled as he talked with a mouth full of pizza. 

“Plonkers, the both of ya,” she grumbled before walking over and sitting in one of the free chairs. As the other two continued to chow down like a couple of cavemen, Rose started to nervously twirl a strand of hair around her finger. Every once in a while her eyes would flicker upward, as if she was trying to look through the ceiling. Background sniggering caused Rose to flitter her eyes over, and she instantly saw Jake and Mickey grinning knowingly at her. 

“Oh shut it!” Rose snipped, rolling her eyes and fidgeting in her chair. 

“Didn’t say anythin’,” Jake snorted, his grin remaining firmly in place.

“Yeah, but I know what you two were thinkin’, so again—shut it!” she reiterated, her tone lacking its former bite. They continued to grin at her, and Rose couldn’t stop the corners of her mouth from twitching into a small smile. “What are you two doin’ here anyways?” she asked, attempting to divert their focus away from her. 

“Want the long or short of it?” Mickey asked.

“Short.”

“The secondary security system’s acting faulty. Keeps gettin’ tripped. Some bloke called in a favor to your dad, so he sent us to try an’ fix it. But apparently it was installed by apes, so it’s takin’ longer than we thought.”

Rose hummed in acknowledgement, grabbing a slice for herself. As she took a bite, she noticed Jake giving her a once over. 

“What?” she asked, furrowing her brow. 

“Ya didn’t have to get all dolled up just for us. Unless it wasn’t for us…,” he trailed off playfully.

Rose fidgeted in her seat. “I’m not dolled up. I’m dressed perfectly normal, ta.” Technically, this was true; she wasn’t wearing anything particularly special. However, she was rather put-together. Her hair wasn’t in its normal messy bun or ponytail that she sported while working; instead, it fell softly down her back. Her makeup was a little more pronounced than usual for her workday. And she may or may not have changed shirts before showing up with lunch. 

Rose continued to nibble on her slice while Jake and Mickey idly chatted. Her slice finished, Rose waited a few breaths before suddenly standing up. 

“I’m gonna go find a loo. Be back in a bit.”

“Tell the ‘loo’ we said hello,” Jake called after her just as her hand touched the doorknob.

Turning around, Rose finally allowed a broad grin before sticking her tongue out and leaving the room.

****

Cathica was above all else a professional. Her career was one of the most defining aspects of her life, and she took the upmost care to not jeopardize it. If a crisis emerged, Cathica would immediately buckle down and swiftly right the matter. If a courier mishandled a delivery, she’d physically track it down. And no matter how snappish or sharp Ian Smith would be with her, Cathica would absorb it and carry on.

But today? Oh, today was another story. 

Ian Smith was in the rarest form she’d ever seen. Almost every word was piercing. His speech was cold, and his demeanor bordering on brutish. He seemed to find fault with everything, and Cathica received the brunt of the blame. Every half hour heralded a new reproof, and by early afternoon, Cathica was beginning to use her extensive legal knowledge to plot against her infuriating employer. After giving Ian his takeaway, (which he quickly deemed “tepid at best”), she closed his door and plopped into her desk chair with a low growl. Needing to release some of her overwhelming frustration, Cathica opened her personal email and began furiously typing a message to her sister. Normally she would have sent her a text, but she wasn’t willing to risk Ian finding her using her mobile. Lord only knew how he’d react.

She had just hit the _Send_ tab when there was a knock on the door, followed by its opening and a blonde head popping through the small space. Cathica recognized the woman and walked over towards her, the blonde stepping into the office as Cathica neared her. 

“Hello, um…don’t tell me… Cathica, yeah?” the blonde inquired with a smile.

In light of her hellish day, Cathica relished the warm tone and kind smile of the young woman.

“Yes, that’s right,” she confirmed, offering a small smile in return. “I’m sorry, I can’t remember your name right offhand.”

“Oh no worries. It’s Rose.”

“Right,” Cathica nodded, “Yes, I remember now.” 

She also remembered that she’d failed to give Rose’s note to Ian, but she kept silent on that. A beat passed as the two women silently stood before each other.

“Can I help you?” Cathica finally asked.

This seemed to bring Rose out of whatever fog she was in, and she quickly came to attention. “Oh, right. Sorry. I was hoping… that is, I was wondering if Ci-…if Ian was in?”

Immediately, Cathica’s posture stiffened at the mention of his name. Rose noticed the change and furrowed her brow slightly. 

“Somethin’ wrong?”

“No,” Cathica replied, her smile now tight and forced. “Of course not. He’s in, but I’m not certain if he’s free at the moment. What was your last name again?”

“Tyler.”

“Right. Wait here, please?”

Rose’s smile broadened and she nodded eagerly. Turning on her heel, Cathica approached her employer’s office door. Taking a deep yet silent breath, she knocked and opened the door tentatively. 

“Mr. Smith?”

“What is it, Cathica?” he acknowledged gruffly, his eyes completely focused on the file he was annotating.

At his response, Cathica entered the room fully and quietly shut the door behind her. “There’s a Rose Tyler here to see you, sir.”

Ian’s hand instantly ceased writing, but his gaze remained downward. Cathica could see a flux of tension through his frame. Something had released and then reclaimed him, although what it was, she couldn’t comprehend. After a moment, Ian said something, but it was so low, Cathica couldn’t make it out.

“Sorry?”

Ian’s head snapped up and his eyes bored into hers. “Do you need your hearing checked? I said I’m busy. Pay attention when I talk to you, Miss Kadanie. I don’t appreciate having my time wasted by incompetence,” he barked, turning his attention back to his work.

Cathica closed her eyes and breathed, literally biting her tongue to avoid retorting.

“You can leave now, Miss Kadanie,” he directed, maintaining his eyes on the file in front of him.

“Yes, sir,” Cathica gritted out before turning and exiting the office. It took every bit of control she had to refrain from slamming the door behind her. Steadying herself and schooling her features into a professional mask, Cathica turned her attention to Rose, who was now regarding her rather curiously. 

Offering a small apologetic smile, she said, “I’m sorry, Miss Tyler. Mr. Smith is unavailable at the moment.” Even as she said the words, Cathica knew they were a lie. She’d seen Ian Smith in all different types of work modes, and she knew he wasn’t so indisposed that he couldn’t have taken a few minutes to see the woman. 

Rose’s face fell ever so slightly, but she quickly recovered. “Oh…’course he’s busy. It’s the middle of the day. I didn’t even think about that. I’m sorry to bother. If ya could just… could ya just tell ‘im… forget it. Never mind. Thanks, Cathica,” she said hurriedly, waving briefly before leaving the office. 

As Cathica watched Rose scamper away, she couldn’t help but feel for the woman. Though she had absolutely no idea what their relationship was, Cathica could tell there was something there between them. It was obvious by their reactions on hearing about one another. This other unknown just added more confusion and frustration to her already trying day. Shaking her head as if to clear her mind, Cathica went back to her desk and resumed working on the multi-paged list Ian had given her that morning. 

****

Ian sat completely still as listened to the muffled sounds of Cathica’s voice, followed by the closing of the main door. As the door shut, he closed his eyes and released a ragged breath. Why? Why couldn’t the universe just leave him alone? Why did it see the need to further torment him? He was already living each day bound in guilt, was it really necessary to pierce his soul again and again? 

Harshly swallowing the lump of emotion caught in his throat, Ian steeled his mind and once again buried himself in his work. 

He was not going to fall prey to illusions. Not again.

****

As she walked back to where Mickey and Jake were working, Rose couldn’t shake the wave of disappointment that had settled over her. Ian was there but he wouldn’t see her. Even though those weren’t the words Cathica had used, Rose had a gut feeling that she was closer to the truth. Her last encounter with him had been…lovely. Exceptional, even. The last memory she had of him was his dark eyes intensely focused on her, the emotions nearly palpable. To go from that to no contact whatsoever, just didn’t make sense to her.

Then again, maybe he was just having a difficult day in light of the anniversary of his father’s death. But that thought, too, made Rose’s heart ache. Because if he was suffering, she couldn’t bear the thought of him being alone. Her hand actually tingled with the desire to take his and intertwine their fingers, to comfort him, to ease his pain. 

These thoughts were halted as Rose approached the door and heard Mickey and Jake’s voices elevated. Furrowing her brow, she opened the door and walked into their bickering. 

“Y’don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” Jake grumbled loudly, though averting his eyes nervously.

“C’mon, it’s so bloody obvious!” Mickey countered, just a loudly. 

“Oi! What’s goin’ on?” Rose intervened, stepping into their sphere. 

“Mick’s just runnin’ his bleedin’ gob ‘bout nonsense,” Jake muttered, still avoiding eye contact.

“It’s not nonsense,” Mickey insisted.

“Back it up,” Rose cut in, “What’s nonsense?”

Mickey turned towards her. “Rose, who does Jake fancy?”

“Oh, Sally,” Rose answered matter-of-factly. “Ev’rybody knows that.”

“Ha!” Mickey said, looking directly at Jake. 

“Oi! What d’ya mean ev’rybody knows?” 

Rose rolled her eyes. “C’mon, Jake. ‘S not like you two hide it well. We’ve all known for years. We’ve even got a pool going.”

“A pool? And since when have you known?” Jake asked, crossing his arms.

“Never mind the pool. And as far as when…since ya dropped me off at my flat after our date. You used the loo and ran into her in the hall. The way you two were lookin’ at each other, I was sure you’d start snoggin’ each other’s brains out right then and there.” 

Jake actually blushed, but couldn’t help but grin at the memory. “Sorry ‘bout that, Rose.”

Though he was grinning, Rose could hear a trace of guilt in his apology. She squeezed his arm and smiled reassuringly at him. “S’alright. I already knew we weren’t goin’ anywhere ‘bout twenty minutes in.”

Mickey snorted while Jake cocked an eyebrow. “Not sure if I should be relieved or insulted.”

“Anyway…,” Rose drawled, “What brought this all on?”

“Jakey Boy was just whining ‘bout not having a date to some wedding. I told ‘im to just man up and ask Sally, and it all kinda snowballed from there.”

“Who’s gettin’ married?” Rose asked curiously.

“Derrick Young—one of my mates from Uni. His wedding’s tomorrow.”

“So, what are ya waitin’ for? Ring Sally. Ask her to go with ya,” Rose said.

“Well, what am I s’posed to say?” Jake sounded more like a schoolboy than a grown man. 

“How ‘bout, ‘Sally, would ya go with me to my mate’s wedding tomorrow?’” Mickey suggested, rolling his eyes at Jake’s ridiculousness. 

“I dunno…,” Jake said nervously. 

“Lord, you two are exhausting,” Rose sighed, pulling out her mobile and dialing. 

Jake furrowed his brow at her. “What are ya doin’?” 

Rose remained silent for a beat, then suddenly spoke. “Hey Sally, Jake wants to talk to you,” she said, thrusting the phone at Jake.

Jake’s eyes were wide with fear and alternated between her and the mobile. 

“Take. The. Bloody. Phone,” Rose said evenly. 

Visibly gulping, Jake obediently took the mobile and walked off a ways, making it so Rose and Mickey couldn’t hear the conversation. However, that didn’t stop them from watching. After a few minutes, Jake ended the call and started smiling like a loon. On seeing his reaction, Mickey and Rose grinned in happiness.

“Y’know what this means,” Rose said to Mickey. 

“Yup,” Mickey replied. “We all owe Isobel a whole lotta money.”

****

The young blonde looked around the sparsely filled corridor, nervously searching for a certain office. One hand was buried in her coat pocket, gripping a wrinkled envelope tightly. The feel of the paper on her fingers caused a rush of panic to surge through her. Feeling her chest tense and her breaths become rapid, she closed her eyes and forced herself to focus on her center, inhaling and exhaling slowly and purposefully. The panic began to dissipate and she opened her eyes to continue her search. Finally, to her relief, her gaze finally settled on her intended location. 

She had a plan. She was just going to find out if he was there. If so, she would wait patiently till he left; that way there was no chance he’d turn her away. Straightening her stance, she walked over to the door, her hand hovering just over the handle. Her hands began to tremble, and she flexed her fingers several times to ease her nerves. Taking another calming breath, she opened the door and approached the young woman behind the desk. 

“May I help you?” the woman behind the desk asked.

“Is Ian Smith in court today?”

The woman’s eyes narrowed in appraisal before she answered. “No, he’s in his office today. May I ask-…”

“Thank you,” the blonde interjected before promptly turning on her heel and exiting the office without another word.

****

Three hours later, Ian emerged from his office and headed towards the lift.

“Hello, Ian.”

At the sound of that voice, Ian stopped dead in his tracks, and he felt himself go pale. There was no possibility it was her, but he had to be sure. Slowly, he turned around to face the source of that voice. A young blonde stood up from her perch on one of the hallway benches and walked over to him, her coat in hand and purse over her shoulder. 

Ian’s wide and pained eyes met hers, and he finally spoke up. “Hello, Lucy.”

Lucy smiled softly at him. “It’s been a long time.”

“Yes,” he agreed with a slight head nod. 

He could feel the guilt clawing its way through him, tightening its tendrils around his neck. Unable to hold her gaze any longer, Ian diverted his eyes from her face. As his eyes skimmed over her neck and collar, he felt a sudden pang in his chest. 

“You’ve stopped wearing high necklines,” he observed. 

Lucy’s hand instantly went to her clavicle and she rubbed her fingers over the long thin scar. She swallowed harshly and nodded her head faintly. “Stopped about a year ago.”

“What changed?”

A stronger smile made its way across Lucy’s face. “I met someone. Getting married, in fact.”

“Congratulations,” he answered softly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. 

Lucy’s eyes clouded with worry and she began fidgeting in place. “That’s, um…that’s why I’m here. I-I need… I need t-to know…”

She titled her head downward and closed her eyes, taking several slow breaths. Ian could feel his chest continue to tighten as he saw her anxiety. She suddenly lifted her head and garnered her courage. 

“Is he out?”

“What?” Ian’s eyes widened in surprise at her question.

“Harry…,” Lucy’s voice broke momentarily. “He’s not out, is he?”

“No.”

The tension in her shoulders eased. “Is there a chan-…”

“Absolutely not,” Ian interjected, his tone conveying the finality of the matter. 

Lucy sighed and nodded her head, a few stray tears trailing her cheeks. “I didn’t think so, but he… well, he sent me a l-letter… It’s the first time I’ve heard from him in years. It shook me up. Imagine it did you too. But… in light of everything, what with the wedding and all, I just…I just had to find you and make certain,” she finished, wiping her eyes. 

Ian hesitantly took a step towards her. “I promise you, Lucy, Harry’s never getting out. H-he…,” he closed his eyes briefly, “He can’t hurt you anymore.”

Lucy regarded him quietly for a moment, before reaching her hand out and touching his arm gently. “Thank you. For everything.”

He began to shake his head in protest, but she squeezed his arm. “No, I mean it, Ian. I confided in you, and you went out of your way to help. And not just me, but Harry too. You’re…you’re a good man, Ian Smith. Don’t forget that.”

Squeezing his arm once more, Lucy smiled softly at him. “Take care.” With that, she turned towards the stairs and walked away.

Ian watched her retreating figure. 

“Take care, Lucy Cole.”


	19. Take Me Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tuesday, November 12, 2013
> 
> Song lyrics from If You're Not the One by Daniel Bedingfield
> 
> Sorry...this is a CRAZY long chapter.
> 
> Tonight I Wanna Cry--Keith Urban

“They’re beautiful, don’t ya think?”

Ian looked around, suddenly finding himself lying supine on cool grass with his arm wrapped around a warm presence that was burrowed into his side. He didn’t need to look over to know who he was holding in his arms. He knew it was her. His senses were overwhelmed with the essence that was Rose, a sensation he both cherished and hated. Cherished because he'd so deeply fallen for her illusion; hated because she was just that—an illusion, a figment that would never be tangible. 

“Well, don’t you?” she prodded gently, her voice caressing his fraying mind.

Ian was entirely certain that he was dreaming yet again; he wasn’t foolish enough to succumb to the hope it was real…that she was real.

But his subconscious beckoned him to her, and Ian turned his face to see her warm eyes and brilliant smile waiting for him. Once again, dream or not, he was captivated. For one moment, Rose was his again. Her breath ghosted his neck; her smile warmed his frigid heart; her eyes pierced his soul.

"What's beautiful?" he asked, his voice hovering above a whisper.

She nodded skyward. "The stars."

Ian frowned at her answer. The stars were rarely, if ever, visible in the London skyline. However, he once again allowed himself to be led by his subconscious, and he followed her gaze. Sure enough, the night was riddled with starlight. It was beautiful, nearly awe inspiring, much like the woman in lying in his arms. 

"They'd be more beautiful if they were real," he finally answered, his voice struggling against the mass of emotion in throat, "But we both know they’re not."

At this, Rose propped herself up on her elbow and looked down at him, a small frown tugging at the corners of her mouth. 

"Why do y'think they're not real?"

Ian silently regarded her for a moment, refusing to enter into a debate on the matter.

She searched his eyes briefly before a smile emerged. She saw his answer, even though Ian had yet to formally acknowledge it. Raising her hand, Rose began to gently stroke his temple. At her touch, Ian felt his breath hitch and his eyes briefly fluttered shut. 

"Oh, love...," she sighed softly, "They're real. They've always been real."

He was nearly undone as Rose continued to gaze lovingly upon him, her touch stoking the hurt buried within his heart. It was a perfect blend of agony and euphoria. Ian could barely tolerate it and desperately wanted to tell her to stop, to push her away, anything to make the pain cease. Any longer and he was certain he'd go mad. 

Just then, Rose stopped her ministrations and cupped his face, lowering her own till her lips hovered just above his, their breaths mingling. 

"Love," she whispered, her thumb gently stroking his cheek, "You have to wake up."

It would have been so simple to lean up and capture her lips, to feel that emptiness dissipate. But Ian's stubbornness ran so deep, even his subconscious couldn't render it obsolete. 

" _Please_ , Cillian...," she implored. "Wake up."

Just as before, Ian awoke with a start, his eyes flying open to meet the darkness of his bedroom. As it was in his dream, the air was cool around him; but that was where the similarities ended. There was no warm, comforting presence at his side—he was alone. The realization hit him hard and fast, and Ian felt a tear trickle down his temple. For the life of him, he couldn’t understand why his dreams insisted on taunting him. It was the cruelest form of torture, to be nightly reminded of a life that wasn’t real, of the woman who wasn’t his. No matter how badly he wanted her—and he did want her, with every fiber of his being—Ian knew that the Rose of _this_ life would never be his, could never love him; she didn’t know what kind of man he was, the blood he had on his hands. If she did, she would run and never look back. Ian wouldn’t even entertain the idea of pursuing her. He couldn’t face that rejection, to lose her a second time; it would be the ultimate breaking point. 

Finally rolling out of bed, Ian sluggishly trudged into the bathroom and began getting ready for the day. As he went about his monotonous routine, Ian could feel something tickling at the back of his mind, trying to reach the forefront. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it had been gnawing at him ever since his encounter with Lucy. There was something he was missing. Though he was uncertain as to what it was, Ian knew it was important. Even though he did his best to push it aside, it was still trying to make its presence known as he left his flat and headed to his office.

****

Tuesday morning found Rose at her usual haunt—in bed, hidden beneath her duvet. Fortunately for her, since her conversation with Jack, she had not been plagued with nightmares, but that didn’t mean Ian was not a persistent fixture in her mind. The majority of her waking hours were filled with thoughts and wonderings of Ian. Despite that, Rose found herself craving more than just memories; she wanted _him_ , wanted to be in the same room with him, to breathe the same air, to feel his presence surrounding her. 

Days had gone by and all her attempts at contact had failed. It was almost…painful. Rose knew that, objectively, such a strong emotional response didn’t quite make sense. They’d only known each other the span of a week, but for Rose, that was more than enough. She’d meant what she’d said to Sally and Donna—she wanted nothing more than to be with Ian, because he…he was it for her. It was undeniable. When they were together, Rose felt a sense of completion, as if a part of her had unknowingly been missing all of her life. Talking with Ian, being with him, even merely thinking of him was like coming home. He was where she belonged. 

It was in the midst of these hazy sentiments that her mobile began to sound. Mumbling irritably, she burrowed further under her duvet, ignoring the persistent voice of Adam Levine insisting he had the “moves like Jagger.” Rose knew that ringtone, and she was not interested in talking to her or anyone else for at least another hour. After a minute, the song ceased and Rose sighed in relief, pulling her pillow tighter to her. Not even ten seconds had passed before the ringtone sounded again. Literally growling in irritation, Rose shot her hand out from under her covers and blindly groped for her phone. Her fingers finally latched onto the offending object, and she jerked it to her ear. 

“Sally, you better be bleedin’ or missin’ a limb or something like it!”

The first sound Rose heard was the sound of Sally violently emptying her stomach. After at least two minutes of retching, Sally finally spoke into the receiver. 

“Rose,” she croaked pitifully, “I think I’m dying.”

“What happened?” Rose asked, sitting up in bed, the covers draping over her like a veil. “Somethin’ you ate? Or’s it the flu?”

“I dunno,” Sally sniffed, “I was spent last night an’ didn’t feel much like cooking. I found some fish you left in the fridge and ate that for dinner, and that’s it.”

“Sally, the last time I left somethin’ in your fridge was a week ago…and it was chicken.”

“Oh Lord…,” Sally groaned before Rose heard the mobile drop and the somewhat muffled sound of another round of retching. It wasn’t long before Sally picked up the phone and Rose heard her start to cry. Her heart went out to her cousin, and Rose immediately scooted out of bed.

“I’ll be ‘round in a few minutes, sweetie,” Rose assured her, scrambling to dress one-handedly and still keep her mobile securely to her ear. 

“’Kay,” Sally answered weakly before they both ended the call. 

****

After running around like a madwoman, Rose was able to run to the druggist’s and Tesco’s before finally arriving at Sally’s, and all in less than ten minutes—an impressive feat, considering it normally took more than fifteen to simply make it to the flat. Using her spare key, Rose let herself in and immediately went towards the loo. The door was open and Rose saw Sally stretched across the cold tiled floor, a wet cloth covering her face.

Kneeling down, Rose gently removed the cloth, causing Sally’s eyes to slowly open and look at her. 

“Hey…,” Rose greeted softly. “You feelin’ any better?”

“Un-uh,” Sally groaned, faintly shaking her head. “Although, I think my stomach’s officially tapped out. Thank God, too, ‘cause things came outta me that I don’t even know how to describe.”

Rose wrinkled her face in mild disgust. “M’kay…don’t need details. Here,” she rummaged through the plastic bag she’d brought with her, “Sip this.” 

She twisted the cap off of a bottle of ginger ale, and after helping Sally sit up, gave her the bottle to drink. Hesitantly, Sally took a few small sips. Rose searched through the bag again, and this time pulled out a prescription bottle. She tapped out a small white tablet into her palm and held it out to her. 

“Martha got one of the doctors at Royal Hope to call in somethin’ for ya. She says it works wonders.”

Without a word, Sally snatched the pill and popped it into her mouth, chasing it down with a small swig of ginger ale. Rose took in her cousin’s appearance. Her long blond hair was straggly from sweat, which had also caused her skin to be sticky. Her clothes were also damp and had a few souvenirs from the night’s activity. 

“C’mon,” Rose said, helping her to a standing position, “Let’s get you into the shower. Just rinse off and I’ll get you somethin’ clean to wear.” 

Fortunately, Sally was able to undress herself and make it into the shower without any further assistance from Rose. As Sally lay in the shower, Rose went to her room and pulled out a clean T-shirt and shorts, leaving them on the towel rack. After a few minutes, Sally slowly trudged into her room, crawled into bed, and promptly began softly crying. Rose crawled up beside her, pulling her into a comforting hold. 

“There now, it’s alright. You’ll be back to good in a day or two,” she assured, stroking her hair. 

Sally shook her head. “’S not that. Jake finally asked me out and I spent hours tryin’ to find a dress and now I’m a sick, sweaty mess, chuckin’ my stomach every ten seconds, and now that bleedin’ cow, Louise, is gonna swoop in an’ make her move,” she babbled.

“Who’s Louise?” 

“His neighbor,” Sally cried pitifully.

Rose couldn’t help herself and snorted laughter. “That ol’ bat who’s always yellin’ and beating on the walls? Isn’t she, like, eighty?”

“Don’t let her fool you. She’s got it bad for ‘im. I can tell.”

“Sally, I don’t th-…”

“You,” Sally said, sitting up suddenly and pointing at Rose, “You gotta go with ‘im tonight. Make sure that bloody home-wrecker doesn’t try an’…an’…”

Rose bit her lip, ineffectively hiding her smile. “Try an’ what?”

“Take. My. Man,” Sally said, punctuating each word with an unsteady poke to Rose’s chest.

Martha had said there was a chance the medicine might make Sally a little loopy, and Rose was enjoying the scene. Seemed like it did more than just make her a little silly, it seemed to act somewhat like a truth serum. 

“Fine,” Rose chuckled, “I’ll ring Jake in just a bit and tell ‘im what’s happening, alright? And I’ll make sure Louise keeps her grabby claws and womanly wiles to herself.”

“Good,” Sally nodded, bumping Rose’s nose in the process. “Now stop your blabbering, I’m sleepy.”

Rolling her eyes, Rose slinked out of the bed as Sally laid her head down and started to drift off. After tucking the covers around her, Rose quietly left the flat. As she stepped outside, she pulled out her mobile and dialed Jake. After a few rings, he picked up.

_“Hey, Rose. What’s up?”_

“Hey, Jake. There’s been a change in plans…”

****

Sitting behind his desk, Ian looked over the Mitchell appeal, which had managed to be overlooked during his…whatever you want to call it. Even though he was trying to focus on his work, the tickling sensation from earlier was now full-blown, taking over his thoughts. In frustration, he threw his pen onto his desk and leaned back in his chair. He replayed the entire conversation in his mind, word for word. 

**_“That’s, um…that’s why I’m here. I-I need… I need t-to know… Is he out?”_ **

**_“What?”_ **

**_“Harry…He’s not out, is he?”_ **

**_“No.”_ **

**_“Is there a chan-…”_ **

**_“Absolutely not.”_ **

**_“I didn’t think so, but he… well, he sent me a l-letter… It’s the first time I’ve heard from him in years. It shook me up. Imagine it did you, too. But… in light of-…”_ **

Ian straightened up instantly. 

**_“It shook me up. Imagine it did you, too…”_ **

She’d said “did,” not “would.” Why had she said that? Was she implying that Harry had sent _him_ a letter? The echoes of her words rocked him to his core. Instantly, Ian was on his feet and rummaging through the various papers and pieces of mail. With each passing second, Ian’s frustration and ire grew, a heat coursing through his veins as his search remained fruitless. After futilely scattering the papers about the room, Ian threw open his door and walked over to a startled Cathica, who was looking at him wide eyed and confused. 

“Cathica, has there been any mail come through that seemed out of place?” he asked without pretense. 

No sooner had he finished speaking than Cathica felt the blood within her cease to flow. Dread consumed her and she was unable to speak. Ian didn’t fail to notice her altered demeanor and his eyes instantly narrowed.

“Cathica,” he said in an icy tone. He didn’t need to say anything more than her name; she knew immediately what he was demanding. 

“Y-yes, s-sir,” she stuttered nervously, “Something came last week.”

“ _What_ was it and _where_ is it?” His tone became colder with each word uttered. The restraint he was using to not fly into a rage was clearly marked, and Cathica thanked God for it. 

“I-I’m not sure what it was exactly. I only saw it was prisoner mail, I don’t remember which. As for where it is…,” Cathica trailed off, taking a shaky and much needed breath, “…it isn’t here anymore.”

Ian closed his eyes and took a slow, controlled breath. His eyes remained closed and his jaw was clenched as he spoke. “Cathica… I asked you where it was.”

Cathica could feel the heat from his anger. Though a small voice within told her that she wasn’t the source of his anger, she knew her involvement was definitely a catalyst. 

“Your brother,” she answered, her voice strained and hovering just above a whisper, clearly anxious over what his reaction would be to this news. 

What felt like an eternity passed before Ian’s eyes opened, appearing vacant yet full of rage. The contradicting emotions and their intensity unsettled Cathica and she remained completely still. Without a word, Ian turned on his heels and briefly disappeared into his office before coming out in his coat, his keys in hand. Cathica could only watch in silence as Ian marched past her and threw open the main door, allowing it to angrily smack against the wall. She knew with absolute certainty where he was going, and could only hope that Jack’s actions had been worth what was about to transpire. 

****

Tessa sat quietly behind her desk, rereading and organizing the multiple messages for Jack in order of importance, knowing that he was due back from his business lunch any time. She’d noticed his offish attitude over the past week, and wanted to make sure she did everything on her part to make his life easier. Finishing with the messages, Tessa moved on to emails. She was in the middle of replying to an inquiry, when she heard the sound of rough footsteps rushing towards her. Looking up, Tessa saw the tense and irate form of Ian Smith approaching, and she reflexively stood up. 

Rather than stopping at her desk, Ian flew past her. “Jack here?” he asked, not bothering to wait for her response and throwing open his brother’s office door. 

“Mr. Harkness isn’t here, Mr. Smith, so you shouldn’t be, either,” Tessa insisted firmly, hurriedly following after him.

Ian ignored the young woman’s implied direction and began searching the room, furiously opening drawers and file folders, tossing them aside when he determined they were of no value. Waves of fury were rolling off of him, and Tessa kept a cautious distance, not wanting to wade any closer than was absolutely necessary. The normally composed young woman was rapidly becoming unraveled at the intense and escalating scene playing out before her. At a loss for how to gain control, she rushed to the phone and dialed her employer’s number. After three rings, Jack answered.

_“Hello?”_

Tessa released a sigh of relief. “Mr. Harkness, I’m so incredibly sorry to bother you, but I’m not sure what to do. I don’t know what’s going on. He just came in here and he’s furious, an-…”

_“Tessa calm down! Who’s there? What’s happening? Are you in danger?”_

“No!” Tessa hurriedly reassured him. “I’m not in any danger. It’s…It’s your brother. He just rushed in here and he’s in your office, throwing papers everywhere, muttering under his breath. I don’t know what he’s looking for. I told him you weren’t here, but that didn’t stop him. And I didn’t know if I should tell Ms. Jones, or ring Security. I know he’s your brother, an-…”

_“Just take a deep breath, sweetheart. Don’t call Security. Just shut the door and don’t let anyone else near my office, understand? I just reached the building. I’ll be there in less than five minutes.”_

Obediently, Tessa took a deep breath and answered, “Yes, sir. I understand.”

The line clicked off, and Tessa hastily scurried over and shut the door, standing defensively in front of it and hoping the increasingly loud noises from behind her would not draw unwanted attention. 

True to his word, Jack was on the floor and walking swiftly towards her in less than five minutes. Even from a distance, Tessa was able to discern his tense frame, clenching and unclenching his hands on his sides. Despite that, she sighed, deeply relieved at his presence. 

“I’m so glad you’re here. I’m so sorry. I just didn’t kn-…”

“It’s fine, Tessa,” Jack interjected, halting her repeated apologies. “Just do what I said—keep everybody away from here while I talk to him.” Without further preamble, Jack entered his office, shutting the door firmly behind him. 

Taking yet another breath, Tessa resumed her post in front of the door, worried about remaining silent, but trusting that Jack knew best. 

****

Jack shut the door harshly behind him, hard enough to cause the frames on the wall to shake. Despite the loud sound, Ian did not look up, merely continuing to search around the desk like a madman. Jack watched him for a few seconds before he finally spoke. 

“What are you doing, Ian?” he asked, his voice firm and direct.

Immediately, Ian ceased all movement and shot his head his head upward, his dark eyes boring into his brother. Jack could see the anger radiating off of him—Ian’s nostrils flaring, his jaw twitching, his eyes narrowed into thin slits. 

“Don’t play stupid with me, Jack. You know _exactly_ why I’m here. Don’t act otherwise.”

Jack pushed himself off the door, taking a few steps forward. “I have a theory, but since _you’re_ the one trashing my office, I think you can at least own up to the reason.”

“Where. Is. It?” Ian demanded lowly through gritted teeth.

Though he was tempted to ask him to clarify, Jack wasn’t interested in antagonizing him. “It’s not important. You don’t need to see it and there’s no way I’d show it to you.”

It was Ian’s turn to step towards Jack, and he did so somewhat menacingly. “You _dare_ come into _my_ office and take what’s mine? Who do you bloody think you are? What right do you have?”

“I have _every_ right to protect you, and that’s _exactly_ why I took it! And believe me, I’d do it again in a heartbeat!” Jack countered, his own eyes darkening. 

“I don’t need you to protect me!” Ian hollered. “I don’t need anything from you or anyone else. I’m fine on my own!”

“Oh don’t give me that load of crap! You are the opposite of fine! Anyone that sees you knows that nothing about you is _fine_ ,” Jack replied, spitting out the final word mockingly.

“What do you know, Jack?! You don’t know anything about me or my life!” Ian spat in return.

“Well, God knows that isn’t my fault! I have tried for six years to be a part of your life, but you make it clear time and time again that you want nothing to do with me! For the life of me, I can’t understand one godforsaken reason why! We were always close, what the heck happened?!”

“What happened?!” Ian hissed.

“Yes,” Jack shouted, “Ever since the day Dad died, you’ve cut yourself off. Shoved everyone away. What happened? What changed?”

“I killed him, Jack!” Ian bellowed, running his hands through his hair and pacing like a caged animal. “That’s what _happened_! That’s what _changed_!”

Jack shortened the distance between them. “You _didn’t_ kill him! Why do you keep taking that blame?”

“Because it _is_ mine! I didn’t listen. You kept saying that we needed to let someone else take over Harry’s case, but I wouldn’t budge. I was the one bloody stupid enough to think that I could fix things. That I could expose Rassilon, that I could stop Harry’s madness, but I couldn’t! I failed! Because of me, Harry broke, Lucy ended up in hospital, and our father ended up with a bullet in his chest! How could that not change things, Jack?! I look in the mirror every day and all I see is a murderer, and I know you see it!” 

Ian’s body shook with barely contained emotion, his chest heaving, and his eyes wild and pained.

“You…,” Jack trailed off, flabbergasted. “You think I see you that way? That’s why you’ve written me off?”

Ian turned his eyes away, closing them and desperately trying to calm his haggard breathing. He didn’t want to continue this, it was too much. The guilt was consuming him, so he quickly replaced it with anger. Anger was blinding. Anger was powerful. Anger blocked the pain. Anger kept him alive. Without anger, the guilt would ravage him, leaving nothing in its wake. He had to focus on his anger.

He opened his eyes, turning his blackened orbs toward his shocked and troubled brother. 

“Give me the letter, Jack,” Ian said, his voice laced with ice. 

Jack shook his head. “I already told you no.”

“Give. Me. The. Letter,” he repeated, closing the distance between them. 

The intensity of emotions raging in Ian’s eyes was almost too much for Jack to bear. He would never be able to discern all of them, no matter how much time he was given, and the pain surging through his brother broke his heart.

“No,” Jack reiterated with calm resolution. 

In the blink of an eye, Ian grabbed hold of Jack’s lapels, shoving him against the wall.

“I said give me the letter!” Ian roared, too overcome with emotion and beyond reason.

“I burned it!” Jack hollered back. “I took a lighter to both of ours and watched the flames turn to ash.”

Ian flitted his wild eyes back and forth, searching his brother’s determined ones. Before any action could be taken on his part, the door to the office burst open and two guards entered, grabbing Ian by the arms and pulling him off Jack. Ian struggled against their hold, but their grip remained secure.

“No, it’s fine. Let him go,” Jack insisted, straightening his appearance. A look passed between the men and Jack, but it ultimately ended with them releasing their vise-like grip, but retaining a strong hand on Ian’s shoulder. 

As the men led Ian out of the office, Jack saw a shift in Ian’s eyes, almost reminding him of a little boy lost. Jack’s own eyes softened, but his body remained fixated in place, too overwhelmed with everything that had transpired to make a move. In his periphery he saw Tessa looking at him with frank concern and worrying her thumbnail. Part of him wanted to put her at ease, but he just didn’t have it in him that time. Without a backward glance, he shut his door and sunk his tired body into one of the leather chairs, bracing his head in his hands and finally allowing himself a tearful release. 

****

Ian walked the streets to his flat, his body moving purely on instinct. His mind felt completely disassociated from his body. When he finally garnered some semblance of awareness, he realized that he’d managed to make it into his flat and was standing in the middle of his bedroom. He looked around the darkened room, a room that was sterile, cold. His eyes drifted to his bed and immediately his heart began to ache as his thoughts turned to Rose. In the beginning, he’d been reluctant to fall asleep, anxious and uncertain of what would happen upon waking. Yet with each passing night, Ian found himself craving that sleep, craving the nights that would herald the return of his family…of his Rose. 

Now those nights had ended, and he felt so alone, so empty. Out of the corner of his eye, Ian caught sight of a familiar red box, still resting on the nightstand. Slowly, he walked over and picked it up, running his fingers reverently over the embossing, a pained smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. 

Just that morning he had cursed his dreams, bitter that his subconscious was cruelly taunting him. But now, after the events of the day, Ian wanted nothing more than to sleep, even though his earlier rage had rid all traces of physical fatigue. But he _needed_ to sleep. Maybe this time if he slept… maybe he…

Ian felt a sudden tightness in his chest and he scrubbed his face. He just wanted to cradle his darling Livy, feel his unborn son’s movements, bury himself in the loving embrace of his beautiful wife and never let her go. _Why_ … _Why_ couldn’t he go back? 

He turned and shuffled into his office, walking over to his desk and pulling out the bottom drawer, the drawer that contained one of his most precious memories. Moving the files hiding it, he pulled out the book; but instead of closing the drawer, he reached his hand to the far back, pulling out the small orange container. He looked at it, unsure what to do. Images of Rose and memories of her essence flooded his mind, and Ian was no longer uncertain. His mind was made up. He wanted to go to sleep.

****

From one of the many round tables situated throughout the reception hall, Rose sat quietly by herself, sipping on her second glass of white wine as she observed the guests dancing and mingling with one another. After placing her glass on the table, Rose picked up her phone, sighing as she noted the time.

 _Lord, will this bleedin’ thing ever be done with?_ __

Normally when Rose attended weddings, it was in a professional aspect, having created the cake and/or desserts. At most, she’d only been to six as a guest, and half of those were when she was younger. For the most part, they had been fairly enjoyable; but as Rose sat there, surrounded by complete strangers, she determined that weddings were swiftly becoming one of her least favorite events.

She’d spent the majority of the time by herself, and though she really wanted to, she couldn’t put the complete blame on Jake. Every time he’d attempted to spend time with her, another reunion with an old mate would happen, and they would quickly drag him off. Even though Rose was a naturally outgoing individual, she honestly didn’t feel up to it that night. No matter what Jake had said, Rose knew she was merely a stand-in. (Both Jake and Sally’s blatant disappointment made that fact clear, even if unintentionally.) Coupling that with the fact her relaxing day had been cut prematurely and she was rather tired, Rose was not in the most festive of moods. 

Picking up her wineglass again, Rose took a long sip as she turned her head towards Jake, who was standing in the distance and chatting with the bride—a lovely blonde named Lucy Cole, if Rose remembered correctly. Jake caught sight of her, offering her an apologetic smile as they continued to speak. She returned his smile with one of her own and took another sip. It was then that Rose felt someone approach her, and she turned her head to see a familiar blonde man standing before her, almost spitting out her wine.

“Fenton?” 

Fenton grinned brilliantly at her. “I thought that was you!” he replied happily, taking one of the free seats next to her. “What are ya doin’ here?”

“I could ask ya the same. I’m startin’ to think I might have a stalker,” she said, only mildly teasing. Fenton seemed like a decent bloke, but she did not reciprocate his interest. 

He chuckled and shook his head. “Nothin’ like that, promise. Lucy’s my cousin. Do you know her, or are you a friend of Derrick’s?

“Um…neither, actually,” she answered sheepishly. “I’m just a plus one.”

“Right now ya seem like the only one,” Fenton joked. “Where’s your date?”

“Not sure where Jake’s at. I saw him just a bit ago, but he seems to have scampered off,” Rose answered, looking around the hall for him.

“Jake Simmonds?”

Rose nodded.

“Last I saw him, he was chatting with someone by the buffet,” Fenton answered, motioning towards the opposite side of the room. “I only met him a few times. Seems like a good bloke. Didn’t realize you two were together,” he said, the disappointment in his voice clearly evident.

Rose couldn’t help the snort of laughter that escaped her. “Me an’ Jake? No, we’re not together. Not by a long shot. He an’ my cousin have it bad for each other. She’s actually the one who’s s’posed to be here, but she’s sicker than a dog. I promised her I’d go with him and make sure no one stole her piece of cake—my words, not hers.”

Fenton laughed at her explanation, his eyes sparkling as he looked at her. “So, Rose, since your ‘date’ is failing miserably, care if I steal a dance?”

Rose felt her mind start at the request. She was reluctant to accept, simply because she was concerned he would interpret as encouragement and continue his pursuit. But on the other hand, she was ridiculously bored and this would help pass the time. 

“Alright,” she acquiesced, a small but genuine smile as she stood. 

Fenton put his hand under her elbow, guiding her to the dance floor. They had just joined the crowd when the music changed from upbeat to slow. Rose felt herself tense ever so slightly when Fenton put a hand on her waist and pulled her closer to him. It wasn’t as if she’d never before danced with a man, but in light of the intensity and depth of her feelings, Rose couldn’t help but think that the only man who should hold her close, who should hold her at all, was Ian. Knowing that her feelings were bordering on overreaction, Rose took a breath and forced herself to relax and enjoy the dance with Fenton. 

However, as the song began, Rose found it impossible to think of anything but Ian. 

**_If you’re not the one then why does my soul feel glad today?_ **

**_If you’re not the one then why does my hand fit yours this way?_ **

With these words, her mind and heart, of their own volition, had instantly diverted to thoughts and images of Ian. Of the way her hand fit perfectly within his each time, how it felt right.

**_I don’t want to run away but I can’t take it, I don’t understand_ **

**_If I’m not made for you then why does my heart tell me that I am?_ **

**_Is there any way that I can stay in your arms?_ **

Rose couldn’t help but smile as she remembered stumbling into his arms that day in the lift and the indescribable feeling that had passed between them as his hands held her and their eyes locked.

**_‘Cause I miss you, body and soul so strong that it takes my breath away_ **

**_And I breathe you into my heart and pray for the strength to stand today_ **

**_‘Cause I love you, whether it’s wrong or right_ **

**_And though I can’t be with you tonight_ **

**_You know my heart is by your side_ **

As the melody continued, Rose could feel a wealth of emotion building, the words resounding within her. They reflected her emotions perfectly. Ian was in her heart, entwined with her soul. If it wasn’t right, if wasn’t real, then why would she feel so passionately about him?

“Are you alright, Rose?” Fenton asked worriedly, his brow drawn.

It was only then that she realized a tear was trailing down her cheek. She embarrassedly pulled away, wiping away her emotion, and heading back to her chair.

“Well, that’s not embarrassing or anythin’,” she chuckled. “Nothin’ like crying over some bleedin’ ballad.”

Fenton chuckled, but there was no trace of mocking. “Well, we are at a wedding. I guess you can chalk it up to the mood.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that makes it any better,” she laughed, “But thanks for trying.”

They both took their seats. Rose smiled awkwardly at Fenton before turning her head and taking a sip of her wine that, thankfully, hadn’t been bussed. When she looked back at him, she noticed that he was regarding her, but not in a leering sort of way; it was more as if he was trying to decipher her. 

“Something tells me that that song made you think of someone, and I’m not cocky enough to think it’s me,” Fenton prodded, offering her an encouraging smile. 

Rose’s eyes widened at his statement; she wasn’t expecting him to be that observant. 

“Um, well…,” she mumbled nervously, unsure of how she should reply, let alone it she _wanted_ to. 

“S’alright. That friend of yours…Donna, I think…anyways, she told me you fancied someone.”

“Did she now?” Rose asked, arching a brow as she did so. 

Fenton smiled and chuckled at Rose’s expression. “Yeah. At the time, I didn’t give it much weight, but now…,” he gave her a knowing look, “Well, now I think I see why she tried to warn me off.”

Rose opened her mouth to speak, but her words were immediately halted by the sound of her mobile. She didn’t recognize the number, but answered it regardless, grateful for the interruption. 

“S’cuse me,” she said, standing and walking towards the entrance and away from the noisy atmosphere. 

“Hello?”

_“Rose?”_

“Jack?” she inquired, furrowing her brow in confusion. “Is that you?”

_“Yeah, it’s me. Look, I know this is a long shot, but is Ian with you?”_

The panic in Jack’s voice instantly caught Rose’s attention, and she felt her whole body come to attention. 

“No, he’s not.” She heard his rough sigh, and she pushed on. “Why, what’s wrong? Somethin’ happen?”

 _“I don’t know. I honestly don’t have any idea what’s happening right now. I-…”_ he trailed off.

“You what, Jack?” she asked firmly, her own panic beginning to rise.

_“I’m at his flat. He’s not here. I found an open bottle of sleeping pills. I don’t know how many he took or where he’s at. I’ve called his phone more times than I can count, but it goes straight to voicemail. I reverse-searched your number, thinking maybe he’d be with you. But since he’s not, I’ll ju-…”_

“Tell me where you are,” Rose interjected, running to collect her coat from the coat check. 

_“That’s not necessary, Rose. I’ll fi-…”_

“Jack, you either tell me where you bloody are, or I start lookin’ for Ian on my own. I can do this with or without you. Your choice.” 

There was silence as the attendant handed Rose her coat, and she quickly threw it on. 

“Jack,” she said, giving him one last opportunity to answer her.

 _“I’ll text you the address._

At that, Rose ended the call and rushed out the doors, hurriedly walking to find the nearest underground station.

****

Twenty minutes later, Rose was practically sprinting towards Ian’s building, only slowing once she saw Jack pacing outside on the sidewalk. Hearing her footfall, Jack stopped and looked at her, relief filling his troubled eyes. 

“Have you heard from him yet?” Rose asked hastily while trying to catch her breath.

Jack shook his ruefully head, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. “Nothing. The doorman said he went left, but that’s all he knew. I don’t know where to look.”

Though her own heart was tearing apart with worry, Rose forced herself to remain strong. Jack looked as if he had been beaten, an invisible weight continuing to crush him. Taking a deep cleansing breath, Rose closed her eyes and began to think of what course to take. An idea suddenly came to mind, and her eyes flew open. 

“Give me his number,” she instructed, pulling out her own mobile.

“I already told you he’s not answering.”

“Doesn’t matter. I know how we can find him. But I need his number,” Rose answered emphatically.

Jack spouted off a series of numbers and Rose hastily inputted them into her mobile. She texted something before scrolling through her phone and then putting it up to her ear. She obviously had a plan, but as to what it was, Jack had absolutely no idea. 

“C’mon, c’mon,” Rose muttered, impatiently tapping her foot as she waited for the call to be answered. 

_“Hello?”_

“Mickey!” Rose cried in relief. “Finally. Listen, I need you to do somethin’ for me.”

_“Rose, I was sleepin’. Can’t it wait till tomorrow?”_

“No, Micks. I _need_ your help _now._ It’s an emergency.”

_“Are you okay? Do you ne-…”_

“I’m fine, Micks,” she interrupted, “I’ll explain later. I sent you a phone number. I need you to ping it or whatever it is you call it. I just need you to locate it.”

_“Rose, what’s-…”_

“Please, Mickey!” Rose pleaded. 

There was a brief pause before Mickey spoke again. _“Gimme five minutes. Ten at most.”_

Hanging up the phone, Rose turned her attention back to Jack, batting away the frantic emotions threatening to overtake her. She ran a hand through her hair, and took a steadying breath.

“What happened to him, Jack? There’s somethin’ you’re holdin’ back. What is it?” she demanded, the time for boundaries now gone.

Jack’s dark eyes locked with hers, and she could see the emotions passing through them. But then, it was if something gave, and he released a shuddering breath, scrubbing his face. 

“About a week ago I got a letter…from Harry,” he gritted out. Rose gasped on hearing the name. “Without going into detail—and let me assure you, it was rather graphic—Harry basically recounted our father’s murder, along with some rather choice words. I knew he wouldn’t single me out. I went to Ian’s office and talked Cathica into giving me his letter. I went home and burned it. I didn’t even bother reading it. All that mattered was that Ian didn’t get a chance to read it. Harry’s such a sicko, I can only imagine what he wrote to him. 

Then today, I get a call from my assistant telling me that Ian was trashing my office. He demanded the letter, we fought, and then Security burst in and escorted him out. When I couldn’t reach him, I went over to his place, but it was empty. Then I saw the open bottle…”

He trailed off, turning his face away in an attempt to rein in his emotions. Rose felt hot tears pricking behind her eyes. She tried to contain them, but her fear for Ian became overwhelming, and they streamed down her cheeks as she furiously worried her bottom lip. The two of them stood together in silence, both trying to keep their heads above water.

Just then, Rose’s mobile alerted and she immediately looked at the text just received.

“Is that about Ian?” Jack asked, coming up beside her. 

Rose nodded as she read. 

“Where is he?” 

Pocketing her phone, she turned to answer him.

“St. James’ Park.”

****

For the second time that day, Ian found himself resting on cool grass; except this time, it wasn’t a mere dream. After taking the sleeping pills, Ian had left his flat, wanting to be rid of its suffocating emptiness. He’d looked down at the book in his hands and knew instantly where he wanted to go. That was how he’d ended up on the cool, damp lawn of St. James’ Park. 

A chill blew through the air, causing a slight billowing of his coat and the pages of the book sitting beside him to flutter. Ian’s eyes grew heavier with each passing second, and he felt his body slink fully to the ground. His eyes finally closed, and he knew instinctually that sleep was imminent. 

The wind blew again; but this time, it not only carried a chill, but also a voice that had be engrained on Ian’s heart.

“Ian?”

Hearing Rose’s voice caused Ian’s body to stir, but he still remained on the ground. 

“Ian?” 

This time, her voice was nearer, and Ian couldn’t help but smile. He didn’t even have a chance to call to her, before he felt her soft hands cupping his face.

“Ian! C’mon, Ian,” Rose pleaded, caressing his cold cheeks with her thumbs. “Open your eyes for me, love.”

Releasing a breath, Ian sluggishly blinked open his still heavy eyes. Hovering above him was Rose, her eyes wide and searching his frantically. A long, curled lock of her hair grazed his cheek and he inhaled, instantly recalling her familiar scent. 

“Rose,” Ian breathed, a small smile emerging as her name left his lips. 

On hearing Ian’s voice, Rose released a strangled sob of relief. “Oh thank God.” She turned to look behind her. “Jack! He’s over here!”

When she returned her gaze back to Ian, he could see tears streaming freely down her reddened cheeks.

“You’re crying,” he whispered, his voice still sleep laden. 

“You scared me,” she sniffled. “Don’t ever do that to me again, Cillian.”

Ian’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, the sleep still struggling to claim him. “Don’t be scared. It worked.”

Before Rose could question him, Jack was at their side. 

“Is he okay? Is he breathing?” he spouted off worriedly. 

“He’s fine,” Rose assured him, “But he can barely keep his eyes open.”

Jack took Ian’s face from Rose’s hands, forcing Ian to look at him. “How many of those pills did you take, Ian?”

“Two.”

“C’mon, Ian. Be straight with me,” Jack demanded, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. “You wouldn’t get like this with just two. What all did you take?”

“Just two,” Ian insisted groggily. “Chased ‘em down with a tumbler.”

“God, Ian…,” Jack grumbled, scrubbing his face. 

“Where’s Rose?”

Rose reclaimed her hold on Ian. “Hey, I’m right here, love,” she reassured him through her tears. “I’m right here.”

Hearing her endearment caused Ian to lazily smile, his mind still hazy. “Can we go home?”

Tenderly, Rose ran her fingers over his forehead. “’Course we can.”

“You think we should take him to the hospital?” Jack asked, kneeling beside them again. 

“No,” she said, shaking her head for emphasis. “I honestly think he just needs to sleep it off. We can take ‘im back to my place. My flatmate’s a doctor…well, nearly one.”

Looking up, she noticed Jack’s uncertainty. 

“It makes sense to do it this way, Jack. I don’t live far from here, and if somethin’ _does_ happen, I have someone there to help and who knows what she’s doin’. Now help me stand him up.”

Jack pondered her words briefly, before nodding in agreement and taking the lead in bringing Ian to his feet. As Rose stood, she noticed something left behind in the grass. Bending down, she saw it was an aged leather volume of Shakespeare’s works. Understanding came to her as she recalled hers and Ian’s conversation about Shakespeare and this very park. 

“Rose?” Jack’s voice called, breaking her train of thought. 

Quickly, she put the book in the inside of her coat, tightening her belt so it wouldn’t dislodge.

“Coming,” she answered, swiftly turning on her heel and walking to Ian’s side, putting a steadying arm around his waist, as she helped Jack navigate them out of the park.

It wasn’t long before the three of them managed to reach Rose’s flat. By that time, Ian was fully passed out, and Jack practically carried him into the flat, depositing him onto the sofa. Rose found a blanket and covered Ian, ghosting her fingers across his forehead and unruly hair. 

Finally looking at Jack, she could see the exhaustion ravaging his body. It was clear it took exceptional effort for him just to remain upright. She walked up to him and pulled him into a hug. 

“You should go home, and get some sleep. You’re completely dead on your feet.”

Pulling back, Jack shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe I should-…”

“Jack,” Rose said with quite determination. “Go. Get some rest. I promise I won’t leave him.”

Sighing, Jack pinched the bridge of his nose, and nodded his compliance. “Alright. I’ll be back in the morning.”

Rose smiled softly and he pulled her in for another hug. “Thank you.”

She nodded into his shoulder before Jack pulled back and walked out the door. Quietly rushing to her room, Rose hurriedly changed into shorts and an oversized jumper, before grabbing a pillow and blanket and returning to the door, locking the deadbolt. With a sigh, she turned to see Ian’s slumbering figure. Carefully minding her footsteps, she walked over and knelt beside him, studying his quiet features. 

Events, memories, conversations, all of it, came rushing over her and Rose burst into silent tears. She bent her head and placed several soft kisses to his forehead, her tears trailing onto his soft, cool skin. Her own exhaustion finally caught up with her, and she laid down on the floor next to the sofa. Unable to bear the loss of contact, her hand traveled upward, immediately finding Ian’s. Her eyes grew heavy, and in mere minutes, both were sleeping soundly, their hands lying intertwined between them.


	20. Shattered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wednesday, November 13, 2013.
> 
> Hate Me (Radio Edit)--Blue October and Shattered (Turn the Car Around)--O.A.R.

Cold. That was the first thought his mind registered. The air around him was so cold, as if ice had somehow filled the expanse. The frigid temperature pulled Ian from the precipice of sleep and wakefulness, and he blinked his eyes open, immediately confused by his surroundings. Not only was the air bitterly cold, but darkness filled every crevice. His eyes turned downward, and he saw that he was no longer lying on the cold, dewy grass of St. James’ Park. No, the floor beneath him was blackened, hard, and just as harsh as the air around him. Ian’s gaze flitted level, and he instantly surmised that his surroundings had altered. Though the darkness persisted, it was no longer the dominating force. The scene had altered so that now he was in a mirrored hallway, light shining from an unknown source. 

Slowly, he raised himself, first settling on his knees and then fully straightening his stance. Remaining stationary in his spot in the room, Ian made a full rotation, confused and desperately trying to make sense of everything. All he could see was his reflection, a reflection so incredibly and eerily life-like, he wasn't entirely certain it was a mere reflection. With leaden footsteps, he approached one of the mirrors and reached out to touch it, needing to be sure.

As his fingers neared the glass, it began to splinter. Ian stopped, his hand mid-air, fingers hovering just above the surface. Immediately, the splintering ceased. He furrowed his brow, unsure what to make of this peculiar happening. Unable to stop himself or his curiosity, Ian moved his hand once more. The tips of his fingers just barely touched the uneven surface before it instantly shattered, the shards falling hurriedly to the floor and causing Ian to jolt back in shock. The space in front of him was pitch-black, empty, but still protected by some invisible barrier, barring him from entering whatever was beyond the void. Ian whirled around and strode to the other side of the mirrored hall, once again reaching out his hand. Just as before, the mirror splintered as his fingers neared its surface, the tendrils spreading at lightening pace over the expanse. Once he made contact with the pane, it shattered just like the other one.

Ian took several steps back, arriving at his starting point, and staring once again at the black space before him. The absence of understanding unnerved him. His surroundings were unnatural, vacant of life, and indiscernible. Ian knew something was off, that what was happening couldn’t possibly be reality; but the depth of detail, the intensity of feeling, was putting that belief to the test. An icy breeze faintly blew through the hallway, causing Ian to shiver and the hairs on his neck to rise. Responding to the cold, Ian lifted his collar, pulling his suit jacket taut around him. Finally deciding to venture beyond his current base, he hesitantly began to walk the length of the hallway, the bitter chill continuing to hang in the air. 

The hallway felt endless, no final destination in sight. Another cold breeze blew, however, this time it was accompanied by the flickering of the lights. All of sudden, Ian felt what could only be described as static flit through his mind. It was almost as if something was trying to break through; something that sounded vaguely like a voice. Though he couldn’t hear it, there was something instinctually familiar about it. If he didn’t know any better, he’d swear it was-…

The cold continued to surround him. As his body shivered, there was another burst of static; but this time he was able to discern a fraction of the sound. 

“Ian…”

On hearing that one word, his eyes immediately darted around, wildly searching for its source—Rose. Ian knew her voice, even if it had been distorted. If he’d heard her voice, that meant she was near, didn’t it? A new determination resided within him, and he hurriedly pressed on, all traces of trepidation vanishing. As his search continued to be unproductive, Ian’s pace changed. Now he was at an all-out run, his eyes frantically searching for his wife. As his footfall continued to gain speed, the lights started to flicker madly above him. Despite the periods of darkness, Ian pressed on, both physically and mentally unable to stop searching. Suddenly, the lights immediately cut off, throwing Ian into pitch darkness and immediately bringing his run to a halt. His lungs burned with each rapid breath, but Ian barely registered the pain. He was just about to call out into the darkness, when the lights abruptly turned back on.

No longer was Ian in a mirrored hallway; rather, he was in a circular mirrored room. He whirled his body around fully, anxiously looking for some exit, but it was in vain. There would be no escaping the confines of the room. He was just about to move forward, when his plan was halted by the sound of footsteps. They were slow, deliberate, their harshness echoing throughout the room; and Ian could feel his heartbeat synch into rhythm with them. He remained motionless, yet his eyes darted around, looking for the source of the footsteps that were directly approaching him. He couldn't discern where the figure would emerge, as there was still no visible entrance or exit. As the footfall loudened, the lights dimmed, creating shadows about the room. Abruptly the sounds ceased, and Ian waited with bated breath for whatever was to come next.

“Well, well, well…,” a familiar voice broke the silence, “Isn’t this a lovely turn up.”

The voice was by far icier than the air had ever been, and Ian felt his heart seize and his lungs blaze as they struggled to obtain oxygen. 

The figure took a step forward, allowing just the lower portion of his face to become illuminated. He flashed a sly, sadistic grin. Ian felt a wealth of emotions come flooding over him.

“What? No greeting for your old friend?”

“No…,” Ian breathed, shaking his head in disbelief. “You…you can’t be here. It’s not possible.”

The figure chuckled lowly. “Oh…here, not here; possible, impossible… it’s all a matter of perception. Unfortunately, yours has always been, shall we say, askew.”

Nostrils flaring, Ian clenched and unclenched his fists, his body beginning to tremble as he valiantly contained his rage.

“You don’t seem that pleased to see me, Ian. I can’t help but feel somewhat insulted. After all, we go back quite a ways. Been through a lot, you and I. Don’t I even get a hello?”

“I could bloody care less whether you’re insulted or not. Nothing about you concerns me,” Ian gritted out through clenched teeth.

The man clicked his tongue reprovingly. “Now, now. No need for such hostility. Besides, protest all you like, but we both know _everything_ you do concerns me. Has for years.”

A silent beat passed between the two.

“Tell me, Ian, how long did it take to clean your hands? Minutes… Days… Years? Or are they still stained?”

A fierce pain twisted deep in the pit of Ian’s stomach at the recollection. His lips parted as he went to speak, but his words never had the opportunity to be voiced.

“Remember how brilliant it was? All that red—so deep and vibrant, almost like a rose. Although… I never cared much for red roses. Prefer pink and yellow, myself. What about you, what’s your favorite rose?” 

Ian felt as if his brain was ablaze. A lump of restrained emotion lodged in his throat, nearly suffocating him.

“Oh,” the shadow said with mocked disappointment, “Don’t feel like having a heart to heart? How about a game, then? Games are _so_ much _fun…_ ”

His multitude of emotions finally claiming him, Ian attempted to lunge forward, but found he was unable to move, his feet frozen in place. The detested figure stepped back into the darkness just as the room began to spin, the mirrored panes circling around and around. 

_“Ring around the Rosie…”_ the maniac began to singsong.

The spinning of the mirrored panes picked up pace, now racing around Ian’s stationary figure at lightning speed.

_“Pocket full of posies…”_

_“Ashes…ashes…”_

The room immediately ceased spinning and all was eerily still. Ian felt his breaths coming in rapid succession. Suddenly, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise, and he whirled around, coming face to face with the inhumanity that was Harry Saxon. His face was uncharacteristically blank, which only increased Ian’s anxiety. Slowly, Harry raised his hand, the hauntingly familiar dull metal clutched in his hand. This time there was no desperation, no uncertainty; there was only determination. Ian closed his eyes, waiting.

“They all fall down.”

The gun fired, and all the panes of glass shattered in that instant, raining down on Ian and nicking his skin. When no bullet tore through his body, Ian’s eyes flew open and he saw that he was no longer standing. Now he was on his knees, clutching a flaccid body in his arms, a crop of blonde hair obscuring the face. Immediately Ian registered who it was, and he blanched, all his blood ceasing to flow. He lifted his trembling hand, and frantically moved the soft blonde locks back, revealing Rose’s rapidly paling face. Terror seized him, and Ian felt himself start to hyperventilate.

“No, no, no… Rose… Oh, God, no…,” Ian cried, pulling her limp body closer. One hand was cradling her head while the other was holding her side. It was then that he noticed something was different between the hands. The one touching her porcelain skin was cold to the touch; but the other… it was warm…and wet.

Ian’s wide and panicked eyes darted downward to see scarlet seeping through his fingers, staining everything its wake.

He felt bile rise to his throat, and tears poured from his eyes as he felt the life leave her body. "God, no…no, Rose, please… Please don’t leave me… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Ian sobbed uncontrollably, his body shaking tremendously.

“Ian, wake up…,” Rose’s voice faintly called.

Hearing her, Ian searched her face, looking for life. The Rose in his arms remained silent, her eyes closed and lips barely parted.

“Love, wake up...,” Rose’s voice called again, this time stronger.

Ian’s surroundings began to fade, and he felt himself being pulled away by some unseen force.

“Cillian, wake up!”

With a shuddering start, Ian was finally pulled from his nightmare and bolted upright, gasping for air. A pair of familiar hands grasped at his arms.

"S'alright, love. You're okay, you're safe."

Ian's eyes darted about the darkened room, finally focusing on the figure kneeling beside him. His senses instantly registered her identity.

"R-Rose?" he asked with a shuddering breath. 

She nodded, her soft hand cupping his cheek, stroking her thumb across it comfortingly.

"It's me. I'm here," she assured him, her warm eyes never leaving his. 

Ian stared at her, his breathing still labored. It had been a nightmare, simply a nightmare. Rose was with him. It had worked. He scooted closer to her, his legs now hanging off the side of the sofa. Even in the dark of the early morn, Ian could see her wide eyes staring at him with such intense love and compassion. Ian cupped the back of her head, his long fingers tangling her soft tresses. His eyes searched hers for one fleeting moment before he lowered his head and fiercely captured her lips. 

Consumed with the need to prove that it wasn't a continued dream, that she truly was there, he pulled her closer to him, deepening the kiss. Every sense heightened as he felt Rose's hand snake around his neck. It was these heightened senses that caused Ian to come to a startling realization. Her stomach wasn't rounded; she wasn't pregnant. The Rose in his arms was not his wife.

Ian’s eyes snapped open as he tore his lips away from Rose’s. For a brief moment, her eyes remained closed, still lost in the moment they had just shared. Finally, her eyes fluttered open and locked with his.

Realizing his hand was still fisted in her hair, Ian quickly released his hold on her, pulling his hand back and leaning away from her. Rose still appeared in a haze as she slumped back on her heels.

"Wow...," she whispered, running her hand through her hair and releasing a breathy sigh. 

Clearing his throat, attempting to rid himself of the emotions built within, Ian flicked his gaze to the side. 

"That, uh...that was a mistake," he replied, his voice cracking ever so slightly.

Rose widened her eyes upon hearing his response. 

"Didn't feel like a mistake..."

"Didn't feel like anything," he countered, still not meeting her eyes. 

Her head jerked back and her eyes widened further at the harsh words he'd uttered. 

"What?" she asked in complete disbelief. 

_Surely he didn't just say what I think he said._

He ran a hand through his hair. “How did I get here?”

Blinking a few times, Rose answered, “Jack an’ me found you nearly passed out in the middle of St. James’. We brought you here to sleep it off.”

Mutely he nodded, rising to his feet while steadfastly refusing to look her way. “Well then, I sh-…”

“No,” Rose interrupted firmly, hurrying to her feet. “You do _not_ get to deflect this. Answer my question!”

Ian closed his eyes briefly, as if steeling himself for something to come. Finally, he met her gaze, his expression distant, vacant.

“It was _nothing_ ; nothing but a mistake. Something that should _not_ have happened. An error. I’m sure you’re familiar with the concept. It’s a fairly common one.”

His clipped, biting words made Rose see red. She stepped forward, angrily pointing her index finger at him. 

“Don’t talk to me like that! No matter how angry you are, I do _not_ deserve a snide remark like that!”

“You wanted an answer, and I gave you one. Don’t get angry with me that it wasn’t the response you were hoping for!” Ian bit back.

“The only response I was hoping for was the truth!” Rose retorted.

“And that’s exactly what you got!” Though he threw the words at her with conviction, he was unable to hold her intense gaze as he spoke them. 

Rose silently regarded him for the briefest of moments before taking another step towards him. "Look me in the eye, an’ tell me ya felt nothing. That for that one moment, ya didn’t lose yourself.”

Ian released a haggard breath, repeatedly running his hand through his hair before finally garnering the nerve to meet her waiting eyes. 

“I… I…” He wanted to deny it, wanted to say something, anything; but his tongue prohibited him from forming such lies, no matter how much he silently begged. 

“You can’t do it, can you?” she knowingly asked. Once again, he diverted his eyes. “Then tell me what’s wrong!”

“Nothing’s wrong, Rose! Nothing! I’m alright. I’m always-…”

“ _Don’t!_ ” Rose snapped, anger rushing over her. “I know what you’re gonna say, and it’s a lie—plain and simple!”

“Oh, really, Rose?” he asked, sarcasm lacing the words.

“Yes, a lie! And not just for me, but for you. Ya say it because you don’t wanna admit that you’re in pain. That you feel! It’s a wall you’re hiding behind.”

Ian stepped to her. “How would you know? Hmm? What makes you think you know _anything_ about me?”

“Because you can’t hide from _me_ , Cillian!” she shouted, “Haven’t been since I met you! Why do ya think I came back to the restaurant that day? Because I saw you! You were hurting, burying y’self, hiding away from the world. I can’t explain it, but I could see you through that. And every time we’ve been together since, I’ve seen more and more of who you are. So don’t you _dare_ stand there an’ try to lie to me, to hide from me!”

Ian could feel a war within him, two opposing forces fighting for domination. The woman, the force before him was breathtaking—full of fire and compassion. So much like the Rose he’d lost, the Rose he craved above all else. But the stronger, more ingrained force was bringing the pain of losing her and his child to the surface, of thinking he’d returned to them, only to be slapped with the knowledge that he was still in his own hellish reality. It then began hurling images of the destruction he brought, of a lifeless Rose in his arms. That was the final straw. He couldn’t take it any longer; the pain was too overwhelming. 

Angrily he scrubbed his face, walking over to the wall and slammed his fist against it in frustration and agony. He turned back to face her, his wild eyes meeting her hurt and begging ones.

“Don’t delude yourself into thinking that you know anything about me or my life, Rose,” he spat, “That you can ‘see’ me! You see what you want to see. You’re simply feeding into some childish fancy that you can help some poor stranger. Never mind the fact that I never once asked for your bloody meddling! Never _asked_ for it, never _needed_ it, and most certainly _never_ _wanted_ it! In fact, if I could go back and change it all, I would! Because ever since I met you, my life has been one bloody mess after another, and I’m done with it! So just stop it!” he roared. 

Rose could only stand frozen, hot tears fighting for escape. This wasn’t Ian. This man was someone else altogether, and he was crumbling before her. Each word had felt like knife after knife had been plunged into her heart. She felt as if she was bleeding out. The man she loved was breaking down right in front of her, but Rose couldn’t reach him. A strangled sob managed to break forth from her before she regained control of her emotions and stifled another bout. 

Something within Ian stirred and he felt his heart ache at hearing her cry out, no matter how briefly it had been heard. His muscles twitched, almost as if yearning to pull her in close. 

Suddenly, something shoved him, causing his head to bounce against the wall. Focusing his eyes, Ian saw an irate Martha breathing heavily in front of him. 

“Who do ya bloody think ya are, talkin’ to her like that?” she demanded. 

Ian hadn’t even thought about Martha’s presence in the flat. It had felt like ages had passed when he and Rose had wordlessly stared at each other. Obviously, he’d been wrong. 

Before he could make a poor excuse, Martha tore into him again. “I don’t wanna hear any of your bloody pathetic excuses, you sorry git! I don’t know how ya ended up here, but you’re a bleedin’ nutter if ya think you’re spendin’ one more second here! Get out!”

Both Ian and Rose were frozen in place—Rose because she was floored by Ian’s raging, and Ian because of Martha’s wrath. However, Martha was not going to give him time to process her words. She’d been torn from her dreams to hear this man ranting at her dear friend. His words made her blood boil and she’d immediately taken action. No one would treat Rose like that! 

Determinedly stepping forward, she grabbed his arm, jerking him with surprising strength.

“I said get out!” she hollered, throwing back the door and pushing him outside into the cold air, slamming the door behind him. She turned around to see Rose still standing in place, clearly in shock. Worriedly, she rushed over to her friend and pulled her into a comforting embrace.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” she asked, her voice somewhat muffled by Rose’s hair. Rose’s hands remained at her side, her body rigid. Martha pulled back and looked at her. 

“Rose?” Martha prodded, her heart constricting at the faraway and unfocused eyes staring back at her. 

Clearing her throat, Rose stepped back, pulling out slowly from Martha’s hold. 

“It’s, uh…,” she cleared her throat again, struggling with the myriad of emotions plaguing her. Finally gaining control, she began again, this time her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m gonna go shower. Think I’ll head to the shop early. You should… you should go back to bed. Get some rest.” 

Offering the weakest of smiles, Rose turned without another word and headed for the shower. Martha stared after her, unsure of what to do. Quickly deciding, she rushed after Rose, only to find the bathroom door locked and the water running. Sighing, she stepped away from the door to return to bed. Before she could even take two steps, Martha heard the muffled sounds of Rose’s sobs. There was another twist to her heart, and she sank onto the ground to wait for Rose, tears of her own falling to the cold, wooden floor.


	21. I'm Fine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wednesday, November 13, 2013
> 
> Cry--Kelly Clarkson
> 
> There are some Italian words/phrases in this chapter. I'm sorry if I got them wrong. I researched, but language can be tricky! (Fiore--flower) (Non siamo soli--we are not alone) (Zio/Zia--Uncle/Aunt) (Spostare--move) (Tomaso--similar to Thomas in Italian)

Isobel pulled the collar of her leather jacket tighter as a faint breeze stirred the cold early morning air. It was her turn to take the opening shift, which worked out well considering Sally was ill. Even so, she was still rather tired. She took a large gulp of her Red Bull, immediately feeling the caffeine rush through her veins. Though she liked a good cup, Isobel wasn't one to drink coffee or tea as a morning jolt. Instead, she chose the energy drink, or what Mickey called "crack in a can." Isobel called it "my choice so shut it!"

As she entered the bakery, she was surprised to see the display case completely stocked. Rose always came in at 5:00, and usually had everything ready by the time 7:00 rolled around. But it had barely turned 6:00, and yet everything was finished; actually, there was even an excess. Thoroughly puzzled, Isobel journeyed to the kitchen. Rose was standing at the middle prep table and working on what appeared to be a carousel cake. Her earphones were in and she was completely engrossed in her detailing. 

Isobel took in her appearance and furrowed her brow. Something was off. Typically Rose wore a jumper, or the occasional button down, and a pair of jeans; her hair was either in a messy yet somehow stylish bun or sleek ponytail. However, this morning, her hair was in a wet, loose plait; her face was void of makeup; and she was wearing jeans and an old, oversized jumper with the long sleeves pushed up. Her features were somewhat drawn, her lips not quite pursed as she occasionally moved side to side around the cake. 

Taking a few more steps forward, Isobel smiled and called to her, “Look who’s being an overachiever!”

There was no response, no acknowledgement of any kind. 

“Rose?” she tried again, frowning. 

Still nothing. Rose was in a world entirely of her own. Absorbed in her work, she knelt down slightly and began another series of etches.

Isobel walked up to so that she was barely five footsteps away, and placed a hand on Rose’s shoulder. The unexpected contact caused Rose to jolt back, dropping her knife and almost falling to the floor. Like a shot, Isobel grabbed onto Rose’s arm, preventing her fall and helping her stand.

Rose released a gruff breath and yanked out one of her earphones. 

“What the heck, Bel? Tryin’ to kill me?”

Isobel’s eyes widened just a tad at Rose’s snappy attitude. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you. To be fair, I did try to get your attention but you were off somewhere in Rose Land.”

“Right, sorry. Guess I was a bit preoccupied,” Rose replied, her tone much softer than previously. 

“I’d say more than just preoccupied,” Isobel looked around the room at the vast quantity of pans and baking sheets, “You really went all out, didn’t ya? How long have you been here?”

Rose shrugged and turned her attention back to her project. “Since 3:00.”

“What?!” Isobel squawked, her eyes bulging. “Why?”

A small sigh escaped Rose’s lips before she spoke. “Woke up, couldn’t go back to sleep, so I just decided to come in. Didn’t feel like lying around the flat doing nothin’.” 

It didn’t escape Isobel’s notice that Rose’s eyes never left her task as she answered. That action coupled with Rose’s flat tone convinced her that something was most definitely not right. 

“You alright, Rose?” she asked gently, her concern evident.

There was a pause. Her focus still straight ahead, Rose replied, “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Well, for starters, you look exhausted and have been working since 3 A.M. You won’t look me in the eye when you answer. Y-…”

“I’m focused on what I’m doin’. Nothin’ unusual ‘bout that, is there?” she interrupted.

“Nooo,” Isobel drawled, “But that’s not what makes it unusual. It’s just a bunch of little things, Rose. You’re dressed different; you’re oblivious to things around you; you w-…”

“Can y’get me some coffee?” Rose asked suddenly, finally looking up at Isobel. 

Isobel blinked at her, taken off guard by the unexpected question. “’Scuse me?”

“Coffee. Like ya said, I’m exhausted and could use a cup. _Bellissima_ should be open by now.”

Gone was the avoidance, and now Rose looked at Isobel straight on, never once breaking her gaze. Isobel blinked a few more times before finally relenting.

“Alright,” she sighed, “What do ya want?”

“Just tell Alberto it’s for ‘Fiore.’ He’ll know what to make,” Rose said, picking up the dangling earphone and placing it back in her ear and turning her attention back to the cake, effectively tuning out Isobel once again. 

Sighing yet again, Isobel took Rose’s not so subtle hint and left for _Bellissima_.

****

Isobel had only been to _Bellissima_ a handful of times but readily remembered the direction of the little café. It wasn’t near her flat, and other than when she had to work at the bakery, she was rarely in the neighborhood. She arrived at the quaint eatery and opened the aged door. The aroma of roasting coffee beans mixed with spices wafted over Isobel as she entered. The room was empty except for one lone figure standing behind the counter with their back to her. 

As she neared, Isobel noticed that behind the counter stood a man—a tall, dark haired man with incredibly toned arms which were accented all the more by a fitted T-shirt with the letters FDNY. She had absolutely no idea what ‘FDNY’ was, but Isobel didn’t need to know the meaning to appreciate the broad set of shoulders they were resting on. He must have heard the approach of her boots, because he suddenly turned around to face her. On seeing him, Isobel felt her stomach somersault. If she thought his upper body was something to admire, it had nothing on the gorgeous face currently fixed in her direction. Isobel was certain that it was highly illegal to be that… _delectable_. His jaw was well-defined, yet lacked any rigidity. His hair was dark brown, nearly black, and hanging just slightly over his forehead. And his eyes… they were dark brown, almost like the color of coffee…

_Coffee, coffee…why am I thinking ‘bout coffee…? Oh, right… S’posed to get Rose some. Sorta forgot about that for a mo’…_

Isobel blinked rapidly for a brief moment, attempting to jar her thoughts and stop her obvious gawking. She opened her mouth, but to her embarrassment, no words came out. His smile widened at her silence, but he said nothing about it.

"Mornin'."

Isobel was surprised to notice that his accent was heavy but definitely not British, not in any shape or form. No, she’d watched enough telly to recognize a New York accent when she heard it. It struck her as odd that he was working as a barista; it really didn't seem like a natural fit for him. Finally, and much to Isobel's relief, words began to form in her mouth. 

"Hi.”

"What would ya like?"

Once again her mind blanked. Lord, this is ridiculous, she groaned inwardly. "Umm..."

_Kiss me, ki-ki-kiss me  
Infect me with your love and  
Fill me with your poison_

Isobel’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as her mobile blared Katy Perry. She hurriedly shoved her hand into her pocket, causing her purse to drop to the floor as she scrambled to silence the embarrassing ringtone. Finally shutting up the offending object and switching the ringer off, she bent over and picked up her purse, her dark hair ridiculously flipping backward as she jerked her body upright. Isobel could feel her face blazing, and it was no longer because of the man’s incredible physique. 

“Not a bad idea, but I was actually referring to the menu,” the man laughed, his smile widening. 

Isobel bit her lip to hide the immense grin attempting to form. _You’re a cheeky piece of eye candy, aren’t ya?_

“Uh, yeah…sorry ‘bout that,” she muttered blushingly, “I’m supposed to tell ya Fiore wants her usual.”

The young man’s forehead creased in confusion. “I don’t know any Fiore.”

“You’re not Alberto?” Isobel asked, her expression mirroring his. 

“No, I’m Tommy, his nephew. And he isn’t-…”

A loud banging noise followed by a flurry of gruff Italian cut off Tommy’s sentence. He closed his eyes and sighed. “Following doctor’s orders.”

Before either Isobel or Tommy could say another word, the voices resurfaced in the background.

 _“Alberto Marchetti! You are **not** supposed to be here, and you are well aware of that fact!”_ said the voice of an irate British woman.

She had barely finished her sentence before Alberto responded with another string of Italian.

_“I don’t care if you can hop all the way here on one leg, the doctors told you to take things slow and not become stressed, and this is **not**_ _the way to go about it!”_

This time, Alberto’s words were more rapid and irritable. 

_“An ‘episode’? That’s what you’re calling it? You had a heart attack, Alberto! A heart attack! You may find this whole situation laughable, but I am not amused in the least. Not one bloody bit!”_

There was some more muttering before the door to the kitchen swung open. A tall, older gentleman with salt and pepper hair came charging out, followed by a petite, older woman hot on his heels. 

”You get back here, Alberto! We are not finished discussing this!” she demanded, grabbing his arm and turning him to face her.

“It’s not really a discussion, now is it, Victoria?” he retorted, surprisingly now in English, though still heavily accented. “It’s me telling you what my decision is, and you shouting at me!”

Isobel stood silent, both amused and shocked at the small domestic transpiring. Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose before clearing his throat.

“Non siamo soli,” he said to the bickering couple. 

The pair halted their heated discussion as they turned their attention to their nephew and the young woman near him. Victoria tucked away a few strands that had escaped her graying bun, molding her features into stoic professionalism. Alberto cleared his throat and offered Isobel a warm, apologetic smile. 

“Apologies.”

“No worries,” Isobel readily assured him. “I didn’t understand half of it anyways.”

Both Tommy and Alberto chuckled, while Victoria simply arched an eyebrow. 

“Zio, do y’know someone called Fiore?” Tommy asked.

“Of course I know Fiore! How is she?” Alberto happily asked Isobel. 

“Tired. She’s been workin’ since 3:00, so she asked me to get her some coffee. Said you’d know what to make.”

“Si, si, si,” Alberto confirmed, nodding his head and walking towards the espresso machine as he rambled off instructions to Tommy in Italian. However, before he could round the corner, Tommy moved into his pathway. Alberto looked up sharply at his young nephew.

“Spostare, Tomaso.” 

Tommy sighed in frustration, but his eyes were soft and warm as he spoke. “Zio…”

“Isn’t there some fire for you to put out back in Brooklyn?” Alberto huffed.

“Alberto, Tommy moved everything around so he could help us out while you recuperate. He does not deserve any smart retort from you. Now, come sit your backside down, or so help me Lord, I will drag you over here myself and tie you to a bloody chair,” Victoria threatened in an even tone. 

He looked between his wife and nephew, both their expressions pleading, yet determined. Huffing, Alberto swiftly turned around, and grumbling under his breath, walked over to his wife and sat down at one of the tables. 

Isobel turned her attention back to Tommy as he proceeded to make Rose’s drink. When he was finished, he turned around and handed her the drink, a softer smile than before on his face. 

“Sorry, ‘bout all that. Zio’s pretty stubborn, but so is Zia.”

“They’re quite a fiery pair, aren’t they?” 

“Yeah, but…,” Tommy trailed off, nodding his chin towards the pair. Isobel looked back over and saw the couple sitting close, their hands joined and resting on the table. Alberto’s thumb was stroking Victoria’s small hand while quietly speaking to her. He then moved one of his hands and cupped her cheek. Victoria smiled lovingly at him, resting her head on his shoulder. 

Feeling as if she’d intruded in on enough private moments, Isobel broke her gaze from them and focused back on Tommy. 

“No matter what, that’s how it always ends.”

“That’s sweet…beautiful, really,” Isobel answered, a soft and somewhat thoughtful smile tugging on her lips. 

For a moment, their eyes locked and she felt a round of intense fluttering. Bashfully, Isobel flicked her eyes away and cleared her throat. “I should head back. Rose’ll have my head if she doesn’t get some caffeine in her. Thanks,” she said, gesturing with the cup. 

Tommy grinned. “Anytime.”

Giving him one final bright smile, Isobel left for the bakery.

***

After walking almost a full block, Isobel remembered the phone call from earlier and hastily pulled out her mobile. She was shocked to see five missed calls and eight text messages, all from Martha and Sally. There were no voicemails, so she checked the texts. __

**_(Martha)—How’s Rose?_ **

**_(Martha)—Answr ur phone!!_ **

**_(Martha)—I’m nt jokin’, Bel…_ **

**_(Sally)—Mar called. How’s Rose? Hv u tlkd to Donna? Can’t reach her…_ **

**_(Sally)—Seriously? Answr ur bloody phone! It’s important!_ **

**_(Martha)—Isobel Woods…I’m gonna murder u if u dnt call back. Trust me…I know how_ ** **_L_ ** **__**

**_(Sally)—WHERE R U?!?!_ **

**_(Sally)—Call me NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_ **

Being equal parts confused, worried, and irritated, Isobel flipped a mental coin and called Martha first. After the second ring, the call was picked up.

_“Well, it’s about flippin’ time! I’ve only been tryin’ to reach you for the past half hour! Y’know that thing in your hand not only makes calls, but accepts them too!”_

“What’s your bleedin’ problem, aye?” Isobel replied hotly. “I was in the middle of gettin’ Rose some coffee. What’s got your knickers all in a twist?”

_“Oi! None ‘a that! I’m bloody exhausted and nearly outta my head with worry ‘bout Rose. Which is the whole point of me calling.”_

“Well, tell me now—what’s wrong with Rose? I know something’s not right. She was all closed off this morning. Hardly looked at me at all.”

_“I’m not sure what all happened last night, but this morn-…”_

A beep suddenly sounded, and Isobel looked to see Sally trying to ring in. “Hang on a minute, Martha.”

She clicked over to Sally’s call. “Hey, what is it?”

_“’What is it?’ I’ve been phoning and texting you, tellin’ you it’s important, and all ya say is ‘what is it?’”_

“Listen, call me back in a bit. Martha’s on the other line,” Isobel instructed and switched back to Martha. “Sorry ‘bout that. So…Ya have no clue ‘bout last night, but this morning…,” she prompted. 

_“Right. So, this morning—I think it was almost 2—I woke up to a bunch of yelling. I got up and followed the noise to the living room. Ian was standing there and shouting at Rose. Said something about how he didn’t ask for her help, how she messed up his life, and that if he could go back and never meet her, he would. Y’shoulda seen her, Bel. She just stood there. Didn’t say a word; didn’t even tell ‘im to get out. So I marched over and shoved ‘im into the wall and then threw him out on his bum!”_

Isobel was stunned into silence. Not only had Ian somehow managed to end up at their flat, but he’d also raged at Rose. She couldn’t believe that he would be so hurtful; not after the way she’d seen him look at Rose. 

Suddenly registering that Martha was speaking her, Isobel finally gathered her wits about her. “Sorry. I-I…I just can’t believe it. H-he…he really said that? That he wished he’d never met her? How could he say such a thing? They looked so besotted with each other.”

_“I don’t know. I have no idea how he even made it to the flat. And when I tried talking to Rose, she just acted like nothin’ had happened. But I know that whatever went on, it shook her up badly. I could hear her sobbing in the shower.”_

“What did Donna say when you told her all this?” 

_“She won’t answer her bleedin’ mobile, either,”_ Martha grumbled. _“I called her first, but nothin’. But y’know that she’s gonna blow her top once she finds out. God help Ian if she ever gets her hands on ‘im.”_

By this time, Isobel had managed to make it the bakery, and knew it was time to end the call.

“Hey, I gotta go. I’m back at the bakery. I let ya know as soon as I find out somethin’.”

****

Rose was utterly exhausted. She was operating on roughly three hours of sleep, and though her body begged for rest, Rose had no desire to sleep. Her thoughts raced through her mind at blinding speed, constantly replaying her last encounter with Ian. But her thoughts were nothing compared to the overwhelming emotions continuing to plague her—the foremost being anguish. 

What she had witnessed in those early morning hours was practically incomprehensible. The man standing before her raging like a wounded animal was not the man with whom she had fallen in love. He looked and sounded like Ian, but that was where the likeness ended. 

Rose put down her sculpting knife and braced herself against the prep table, closing her eyes as another crippling wave of pain washed over her. The sense of immense loss caused an ache within her bones. Yet in the midst of all the cascading emotions she was experiencing, Rose couldn’t understand how she could also feel so hollow. Being with Ian had made her feel complete; whole. But now that he’d pushed her away, she felt utterly empty. 

Opening her eyes, Rose realized that she was trembling. Pulling back from the table, she turned up the volume on her iPhone, attempting to distract herself from the pain and drown Ian’s words. She went to pick up her knife again, but halted when she caught sight of Isobel walking into the room. Without removing her earphones or turning down her music, Rose thanked her before taking a sip and turning her focus back to her work. She could feel Isobel’s eyes boring into her, and a spark of anger shot through her. Rose knew the word had spread; of course it had. That was one of the downsides of being in close group; everyone knew practically everything.

Rose took another sip before saying, “I need you to man the front; I’m staying back here today.” 

Steadfastly ignoring her gaze, Rose focused intently at the cake in front of her, holding her breath and hoping Isobel would get the hint. Surprisingly, after a few moments, Isobel left the kitchen, never saying a word. Saying a silent thank you to above, Rose hopped onto the counter and sipped on her coffee, staring absentmindedly at the wall in front of her. 

Suddenly, the music stopped and she noticed Jack was calling. Closing her eyes and exhaling slowly, she pressed _Accept_. 

“Hello?”

_“Hey, Rose.”_

“Hey, Jack. How are ya?”

_“Been better. Didn’t get much sleep. How ‘bout you?”_

“I’m fine,” Rose replied without hesitation, but without emotion.

There was a pause before Jack spoke again. _“How’s Ian this morning?”_

A burning came to her eyes, and Rose realized that tears were fighting to break free. Taking a deep, silent breath, she said, “Whatever he took seemed to be outta his system when he left this morning.”

_“He already left?”_

“Yeah, he left early this morning, just before I went into the shop.” Rose felt a lump come up into her throat. She didn’t want to talk about what happened with Ian. Even the condensed version caused her pain. Deciding it was too much and she need to end the call immediately, Rose said, “Listen, Jack, I gotta go. Y’know, work an’ all.”

 _“You okay, Rosie?”_ Jack asked her, deep concern evident in his voice. 

“I’m fine, Jack. Talk to you soon, yeah?”

_“Sure.”_

“Alright then. Take care.” Without waiting for a reply, Rose ended the call and closed her eyes once again as a few tears broke loose. Furiously wiping away at her eyes, Rose resumed her music, turning the volume up even more and retreating inward. 

****

A few hours had passed, but to Rose it could have been mere minutes; that was how detached she was from her surroundings. She had ceased baking because it was just becoming wasteful to make such an excess. Now, she was sitting cross-legged on a chair, flipping through one of the girls’ gossip rags, her music still blaring in her ears. It was for these reasons that Rose didn’t register Isobel’s presence until one of her earphones was pulled out. 

“ _OI!_ ” Rose snapped, jolting her head upward to look directly at Isobel. “What do y’think you’re doin’?”

“You’re needed up front,” she replied, unfazed by Rose’s anger.

“I already told you that I’m working the back today,” Rose answered snappily, reaching for her earphone. 

Before she could get ahold of it, Isobel grabbed her hand. “Rose. You need to come up front.”

Irritated and her anger rising, Rose stood, hotly pocketing her mobile, and stomped to the front. She had barely gone through the doorway when she immediately halted her steps. There was no flurry of customers; rather, she found Mickey, Jake, Sally (still looking dead to the world), and Donna scattered about the room, all evidently waiting for her. 

Rose shook her head vehemently. “No. No, I’m not doin’ this.” She turned to go back to her hiding place, but Isobel blocked her exit. 

“Out of my way, Isobel,” she demanded, her eyes sparking with contained ire.

“No, Rose. You need to talk about what happened last night.”

“Like fun I do,” Rose snapped. “It’s nobody’s bloody business what happened. It’s done and over, and that’s all that concerns any of you,” she finished, whirling around and turning her blazing eyes on each of them.

“Rose Tyler, we’re your family. What happens to you matters to all of us,” Donna countered, surprisingly calm. “When someone hurts you, we want to know about it.”

“Nothin’ hap-…,” Rose started, but was immediately interrupted by Mickey.

“Don’t even say that, Rose. All of us know that’s not true. We might not know all the details, but we know enough to know that that Ian bloke was more than a bloody wanker to you.”

“Y’don’t know anything about last night—none of you do,” she shouted. “And you don’t need to know. All that you need to know is that I’m _fine_!”

“Rose-…,” Jake chimed in.

“Bugger this!” Rose hollered, grabbing her purse from under the counter. “I don’t need any of this. All of you can just back off and mind your own bloody business for once!” 

Without another word, Rose ran out of the bakery, ignoring the protests and shaking off the hands of her friends as she rushed by them. Once outside, Rose rushed to the nearest underground station and took the first tube she saw. She had no destination in mind, but that didn’t concern her. She simply needed to escape, to put as much distance between her and those who would have her recount her pain. She already felt it; to speak the words would break the struggling hold she had over her emotions. 

Silently, Rose reached into her bag and pulled out the worn leather volume she’d retrieved off the lawn of St. James’ Park. Gently she ghosted her fingertips over the imprinted leather. As the doors closed and the car began to move, she hugged the book to her chest, closing her eyes and leaning her head back, allowing the nothingness to overtake her. 

****

It was nearly 7:00 P.M. when Rose walked into her parents’ home. She’d spent the entire day either riding around on the tube or simply getting lost in the crowds. She’d ignored all calls and texts; and avoided going to any familiar haunts. She also hadn’t eaten anything, which hardly mattered anyhow; she had absolutely no appetite. But after hours of aimless wandering, Rose somehow found herself standing in the foyer of her former home. 

Softly closing the door, Rose walked into the living room and saw her mum sleeping quietly on the sofa, her hand instinctively covering her abdomen. A small smile crept onto Rose’s face at the sight. Quietly turning away, she headed up the stairs and into her father’s office. 

The door was open and Pete was sitting on the floor in front of a half-built computer, wires and parts all around him. 

“Hey Dad.”

Pete looked up from his project and smiled at his daughter. “Hey, sweetheart. What brings you here?”

She shrugged, walking over and taking a seat beside him. “Dunno. Just decided to stop by.”

As her eyes met his, Rose could see a look pass over her father’s eyes. Clearing her throat, she motioned to the computer. 

“Buildin’ another one?”

Pete smiled softly. “Not exactly. It’s just sort of a tune up. Needed to add another hard-drive and a few other things. Hand me that Philips head, will ya?”

Rose looked around her briefly before finding the screwdriver and handing it to him. They sat in companionable silence for several minutes, Rose assisting him like she had when she was younger. 

“Haven’t done this sorta thing in long time,” Rose finally spoke up. 

“You were always good at it. Better than some of the men who used to work for me. Nearly broke my heart when you decided to become a baker,” he teased.

“Yeah, well, I think your stomach proves you’ve recovered,” Rose chuckled, playfully jabbing him. 

“Cheeky.”

Rose chuckled again before returning to silently assisting. Another few minutes passed before Pete spoke up. 

“So…think you’re ready to talk about it?” he asked, looking over at her.

“Don’t know what y’mean,” she answered, keeping her eyes fixed on the wire in her hand.

“I think you do,” Pete replied softly, no accusation or anger in his voice.

“So which one of ‘em have been running their bloody gob?” Rose asked hotly. 

“Mickey was in my office when Martha called. He felt it was only right to tell me.”

Rose snorted in derision. “I’m sure he did,” she muttered. “Well…doesn’t matter what he said, I’m fine.”

“Rose-…”

“I said I’m fine, Dad,” Rose snapped, throwing the wire and jumping to her feet.

Calmly, Pete stood and took a few steps toward her. “I know what you said, Rose. I also know it’s not the truth.”

Feeling a constricting lump of emotion rise in her throat, Rose began to pace, refusing to look at her father. She ran her hand through her hair. “Why can’t you all just leave me alone? There’s nothing to say, nothing to fix. Just leave it!”

Crossing to her, Pete gently grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to stop in front of him. “Talk to me, love.”

Rose threw her hands up, breaking free from his hold. “What do you want me to say, Dad? Huh? That I’ve fallen in love with Ian? That the man that I can’t imagine my life without wishes he never met me? That my heart hurts…hurts so much that I can hardly breathe? That I-…,” she broke off abruptly, tears strangling her voice. She shook her head, barely regaining control. “That I’ve never felt so broken, so numb? That enough for you, Dad, or do ya need me to keep goin’?”

Pete felt his heart tear as he looked at his daughter. Never once in her entire life had he seen her so pained. Sure, she’d had rough times; but she was always so resilient, taking challenges head on. To see her heart lying broken at her feet was one of the hardest things he’d ever had to endure. He saw her close her eyes and take several heaving breaths. Without a word he approached her. She opened her eyes and looked at him. 

“I’m fine, Dad,” she insisted, her voice strained.

He stopped in front of her, putting a hand on her arm. 

“I’m fine,” she persisted, her voice now above a whisper, her eyes filled to the brim with unshed tears.

Pete remained silent as he gazed upon his daughter. Her hold was crumbling; he could see it. In one fluid motion, he pulled Rose to him, wrapping her in his arms. Every single emotion came crashing down on her, and she couldn’t fight it any longer. She felt her body go limp as harsh sobs wracked her body and she sank to the floor. Pete kept his hold on her as she burrowed her face into his chest, hot tears burning her cheeks and her lungs pleading for air. Knowing there were no words _he_ could say to take away her pain, Pete simply held his little girl in his arms as her sobs echoed through the room.

****

It was after 10:00 P.M., and Ian was sitting on his sofa, staring off into the distance. He’d spent the majority of the day replaying the events of that morning on an endless loop. There was the feel of her in his arms, the taste of her kiss, the way she looked at him. Then there were the venomous words he’d uttered, the pain in her eyes, the small sob escaping her lips, the instinct to bring her into his arms. Each time it became more and more painful, at times literally making it hard to breathe.

A knock at his door pulled him from his recollections. He had no desire to answer it; but at its persistence, he relented. Scrubbing his face with his hands, Ian took a breath and opened the door to find his brother standing before him. 

“Hey Ian.”

“Jack,” he acknowledged wearily.

A few beats of silence passed before Jack took a step forward and spoke.

“I think it’s time we finally talk.”


	22. And the Truth Shall Set You Free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wednesday, November 13, 2013
> 
> The Sun Is Rising--Britt Nicole

Looking at the determined presence of his brother, Ian realized he was at a divergence. Even in his weary state, Ian was fully aware of what allowing Jack to cross the threshold would signify. It would not only be a literal allowance, but an emotional one as well. He could feel the all too familiar struggle within himself; but this time, Ian didn’t have it in him to fight. The events of the collective two weeks, both in this reality and the other, had taken their toll on him, and the exhaustion was too great. Releasing a haggard breath, Ian dropped his hold on the door and turned back towards the sofa, leaving the way open for Jack to enter. 

A look of surprise flittered over Jack’s eyes, but he instantly recovered and entered the flat, closing the door behind him. He found Ian on the sofa, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. Jack sat in one of the less than inviting chairs opposite him, and took in his brother’s appearance while he attempted to formulate his own thoughts into words. It was blatantly obvious that Ian was more than a tad fatigued. His features were gaunt and there was a vacancy to his eyes that was familiar, yet at the same time, foreign. 

“Jack,” Ian sighed, “It’s rather late for a staring contest. So unless you have an actual purpose for coming here, could we take a rain check on th-…”

“Tell me what I did wrong,” Jack suddenly requested, his tone free of anger or accusation. 

Immediately Ian ceased his moving his hand, and focused intently on his brother. “What?”

“Tell me what I did wrong,” Jack reiterated. “I must have done something for you to think I’ve been blaming you all these years. I’ve been wrackin’ my brain, and it’s the only explanation I can come up with. So, please...,” he implored, “Just tell me what I did so I can fix it.”

Ian could only silently stare at him. His mind was unable to process Jack’s statement. Jack thought _he_ had done something wrong? 

“Wh-…why would you think that?” he stuttered confusedly. 

His eyes widening at the question, Jack leant back into his chair. “’ _Why?_ ’” he repeated incredulously. He suddenly stood and started pacing, running his hand through his hair and sighing. “Six years, Ian. _Six years_!” he replied, his tone gruff but pained. “We went from being nearly inseparable to absolutely nothing in _one day_! The only time we see or speak to each other is when we’re arguing a case. Do you know how hard that is for me?”

At that, Ian was on his feet, taking a few steps towards him. “You think that it has been a walk in the park for me? That I don’t wish things could be different? Th-…”

“There’s no reason to _wish_ for any of that, Ian. They didn’t have to change in the first place!” 

“Yes they did, Jack!” Ian insisted, grabbing at his hair as he paced. He could feel his lungs screaming for air, the fire of emotions he was trying to keep at bay setting his mind ablaze. Ian berated himself for his idiocy. He wasn’t ready for this, should never have opened the bloody door. 

“Why, Ian? Explain to me w-…”

“Because, Jack,” Ian cried, “I saw it!” 

Jack furrowed his brow. “I know that, Ian, and I know you tried to save him. But that d-...”

“I’m not talking about just that,” Ian answered, his breathing rapidly becoming labored as the images of his father’s bleeding body were dredged up. He tugged harder at his hair, almost if the action would somehow reinforce the slipping grip on his emotions. Each minute in his brother’s presence was a blow to his defenses, and he was fracturing. 

Now it was Jack’s turn to pull at his hair, the lack of directness starting to get to him. They were going around in circles, the desired destination continuing to be just out of reach. 

“Then _what_?” he shouted as he threw his hands up, his words uttered with a mixture of frustration and desperation. 

“The look in your eyes, Jack! The look in Sarah Jane’s!” Ian howled, finally losing his grip. “It was blame. Disgust. It was everything I felt! How could _anything_ stay the same after that? How could I stay a part of your lives, when **_I_** was the one that destroyed them? Ian Smith, ‘The Destroyer,’” he spat in disdain and mockery, “and who was his first victim? His own bloody _family_!”

For that moment, Jack ceased breathing. Ian’s mentality was so vastly different from reality, that it was almost incomprehensible to Jack. 

“How can you think that we could _ever_ look at you that way? The only one we blamed or were disgusted with was the blackguard who pulled the godforsaken trigger!”

Word after word thundered in his ears, and Ian felt as if he was standing on a glass ceiling, one that was quickly splintering beneath him. That deeply ingrained sense of avoidance, of self-preservation, was fighting to take control; but it was finally too weak. Pain, guilt, and self-loathing took dominance.

“It might as well have b-…”

“No!” Jack shouted, “Stop that! Stop taking blame that isn’t yours to take! It _wasn’t you_! It was _never you_! It was Harry, Ian. _Harry_ attacked Lucy. _Harry_ stole her gun.And it was _Harry_ who murdered our father. _Not you_!”

“But I put it all in motion, Jack!” Ian cried out in desperation. “I was so bloody blind, so naïve thinking I could fix it. I didn’t just think I could, I _believed_ that I could! And I _promised_ him, Jack; I promised Harry that I would make things better. I didn’t look hard enough at Rassilon, assumed he was _helping_. Instead. he used Harry as a bloody guinea pig, screwed with his meds until he finally went off the edge. He attacked Lucy, Jack; she barely fought him off, and now she lives with a bloody scar across her throat! And then, instead of choosing me, he puts a bullet through our father!”

“Listen to what you just said,” Jack ordered, “ _Rassilon_ screwed with Harry’s meds; _Harry_ attacked Lucy; _Harry_ put a bullet through Dad. _None_ of that was _you_!”

Ian felt his throat closing, emotions strangling him as Jack’s words began to make headway. “But I-…”

“Went out of your way to help your friend,” Jack interjected. “I remember coming into work, only to find you passed out on your desk from exhaustion. You spent day after day, week after week, doing everything possible to help Harry, nearly killing _yourself_ in the process.”

“But I didn’t listen,” Ian said, his words strained and cracking, “You told me to step away from it, but I didn’t listen. I just kept on.”

Jack looked away in thought. Sighing, he turned back to his brother, taking a few steps towards him. “Remember Elton Pope, that guy I defended about seven years ago? Police suspected him of killing his girlfriend—what was her name?”

“Ursula,” Ian answered softly, easily recalling the case in question. 

“Right. Ursula,” Jack nodded in recollection. “It looked like a pretty hopeless case. Elton had virtually no alibi, no one could corroborate his statement. He kept saying he didn’t do it, that he loved her; but I convinced him to take a deal, that the prosecution had too strong of a case against him. Poor guy insisted he was innocent, but he was so scared out of his wits, he took it.”

“Why are we talking about this, Jack?” Ian asked, confused as to why this anecdote had any value.

“I came in one morning a couple days after that and found you in one of the conference rooms, papers scattered everywhere, file boxes piled high. I asked you what you were doing, and you said that somethin’ about the case didn’t set right. You were focused on a statement some homeless man made about seeing her outside a church with some guy who had a cane. The police didn’t take him seriously ‘cause he was drunk off his rear and Ursula didn’t belong to any church. I didn’t think twice about it, but you said it was too specific to just be some drunken ramble. And what did I say to you?”

Ian sniffed and looked away, beginning to see where Jack was headed with the tale. “That it was probably nothing, and that I should let it go.”

“But it wasn’t nothing,” Jack chuckled somewhat bitterly. “You didn’t listen to me, but followed that homeless lead. Turned out the church was a meeting place for Ursula’s support group, and the guy with the cane was the therapist running it. When they questioned him, they found out he was obsessed with her. Searched his place, and found her in the basement— _alive._ ”

“What’s your point Jack?” Ian asked, still unable to meet his brother’s eyes. 

“Ursula’s alive because you didn’t listen to me,” Jack said with quiet conviction. “Elton spent almost a year in prison because of the deal I made him take. It doesn’t make me evil; it makes me _human_. I don’t know if Harry would have come after you or Dad if you’d let someone else handle the case. There’s no way to ever know that. But just because you didn’t take my advice, does _not_ make you evil, and it does _not_ make you a murderer!”

Ian could feel the glass beneath him continue to splinter, ready to break any second. He still couldn’t meet Jack’s eyes, fearful of what he would find. He wasn’t afraid of seeing resentment or blame; no, now he was afraid of seeing forgiveness—something he’d yet to grant to himself. Ian felt his strength beginning to dissipate, and he stumbled back to the sofa. He braced his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. 

A moment passed before he felt a dip in the cushion and a presence beside him; it was familiar and comforting. He remembered all the times past when he’d turned to his brother, or vice versa; each always looking out for the other no matter what. Ian felt the pull to look at him, but the fear and uncertainty kept his eyes downward. 

“No matter what, Ian, you are my brother. Have been since we first met, and nothing will ever change that. It doesn’t matter how hard you try to push me away, I’m never going to give up on you.”

With those uttered words, the glass finally shattered, plummeting Ian into the emotional sea he’d shunned for years.

“I tried to save him, Jack,” he croaked, his body beginning to tremble. “I swear I tried, but I couldn’t. There was so much blood. No matter how hard I tried, it wouldn’t stop. It kept coming. And I begged him to stay, but he just smiled and squeezed my hand. When the ambulance came, I tried to go with him, but they wouldn’t let me follow. We never g-….” 

Sobs choked his words, wracked his body. Jack immediately put a consoling arm around his brother, Ian’s sobs now causing them both to tremble. 

“We never got to say goodbye, and now he’s gone, Jack. Dad’s… gone,” Ian finished, a heart-wrenching cry of anguish breaking forth as he collapsed in on himself; hot tears, so long restrained, finally poured from his pained heart. At seeing his brother’s agony, Jack pulled Ian close, his own tears now falling. 

“I know, Ian. I know,” Jack soothe, his voice heavy with emotion. “But me and Sarah…we’re still here…you’re not alone.”

Finally choosing to accept the truth of those words, Ian grasped his brother tightly, holding on so as not to lose himself in the cascade of emotion that he had finally allowed himself to feel. 


	23. Where Do We Go From Here?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thursday, November 14, 2013
> 
> Dreaming With A Broken Heart–John Mayer

_"Didn't feel like anything…"_

_“If I could go back and change it all, I would!”_

_“Since I met you, my life has been one bloody mess after another, and I’m done with it!”_

_“It was nothing; nothing but a mistake. Something that should not have happened…”_

_“It was nothing…”_

_“Nothing…”_

_“Nothing…”_

Rose's eyes flew open as her subconscious took pity and tore her away from the painful recollections plaguing her sleep. Well, if one could call it sleep. It was more of a tossing and turning as Rose tried to quiet her mind and heart. Unfortunately, all her efforts were unsuccessful. 

Blinking several times, Rose allowed her eyes to focus and take in her surroundings. As she did so, she realized she was curled up on the sofa in her parents' living room, a quilt draped over her. The events of the previous night came back to her and she felt a wave of fatigue and forlornness wash over her. Feeling a coiling sensation in the pit of her stomach, she curled further into herself, pulling the quilt tighter around her, and closed her eyes. 

After a few moments, a sudden hand began to stroke her hair. Opening her eyes, Rose looked up to see her mum standing above her, a steaming mug in hand, and smiling affectionately at her. 

“Mornin’, sweetheart.”

Rose returned the smile, though much softer. “Mornin’, Mum.”

“Budge up,” Jackie instructed, motioning for Rose to move. 

Slowly, Rose obeyed and sat up, allowing Jackie to sit next to her. She put the mug to her lips, but then frowned as Rose remained upright. 

“Well come on now,” she said, patting her lap. 

Deciphering her meaning, the corners of Rose’s lips twitched upward before she laid her head down on her mum’s lap. The gesture, childish or not, felt comforting; and that was what she needed at the moment. 

Several minutes of silence passed as Jackie sipped her tea and stroked her daughter’s hair, before Rose finally spoke. 

“Dad tell you?” she asked, though it was more of a statement as opposed to a question. 

“Mm-hmm,” her mum answered, taking another sip of tea.

When there was no further answer, Rose flipped onto her back, looking up at her mum. 

“That’s it?” she asked in surprised confusion. 

“Wha’?” Jackie countered, her dark brows furrowed. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining. But for a woman whose slap is considered capital punishment, you’re oddly calm. It’s actually sorta…creepy,” Rose said, and not entirely joking.

Jackie pursed her lips before replying, “Yeah, well…normally, I’d be more than happy to knock that plonker’s teeth out and feed them back to ‘im. But, I’d rather not have this baby behind bars like some bleedin’ soap.”

“And because y’know I wouldn’t want you to do anythin’ to Ian, right?” Rose asked, quirking an eyebrow.

There was a pause before Jackie shook her head. “Nah, it’s mainly the prison thing.”

Rose snorted and rolled her eyes. “Whatever. It still gives me the creeps to see ya like this.”

Jackie swatted her forehead. “Oh button it, you. Lord, I can’t win for losing with you lot. I do somethin’, an’ ya say I’m overreacting. I do nothin’, an’ ya say it’s creepy. Make up your mind, yeah?”

“Nah…makes things less interesting if we just pick one,” Rose giggled, turning back onto her side. 

“You’re a bit too cheeky for your own good, y’know that?” her mum quipped while Rose continued to giggle. 

Jackie continued to sip on her cuppa while thinking about what, if anything, was best to say. The fierce maternal instinct within her wanted to find the bloody wanker who had broken her daughter’s heart—find him and slap his teeth clean out of his hollow skull. Unable to stop the motherly reproof on her tongue, Jackie spoke up. 

"I do remember tellin' you that ya barely kn-..."

"Mum...," Rose warned. She did not want those words spoken. This whole situation had absolutely nothing to do with how long she had known Ian. 

"Alright, fine," her mum muttered, sighing afterwards. She wanted so desperately to do something, anything to help Rose through this; but she was honestly thrown by the intensity of Rose's reaction. Undeniably, Jackie was beyond livid about it all. But at the same time, it wasn't as if they had been in a serious relationship. As far as she could determine, they had only spent a handful of times together. 

“I gotta say somethin’, love.”

“If it’s anythin’ kin to ‘I told ya so,’ I don’t wanna hear it,” Rose answered in a firm voice, her head still lying on her mum’s lap. 

“S’not, Rose. I just don’t quite understand why you’re so broken up over this prat. I’d expect ya to be right hot ‘bout it, but…sweetheart, ya weren’t a couple. It wasn’t even like what ya had with Mickey.”

With an irritated sigh, Rose flipped onto her back once more. “Mum, a kiss for a lolly when we were five is not a relationship.”

“Exactly what I’m sayin’, Rose,” Jackie countered. “You an’ that Ian bloke weren’t even at that level.”

Rose could feel her anger and frustration increasing, and she hurriedly sat up and pulled away from her mum. 

“Enough, Mum. If alls you’re gonna do is make jabs like that, then-…”

Jackie grabbed her hand as Rose attempted to leave the sofa. “Rose…love, that’s not what I’s tryin’ to do. I just…,” she sighed, placing her mug onto the floor. “I just don’t understand what’s so bleedin’ special ‘bout this man.”

Sighing, Rose gently pulled her wrist away and drew her knees to her chest. She wasn’t certain she could explain the depth and intensity of her feelings for Ian—words felt lacking. 

“I dunno how to explain it, Mum. It’s…,” Rose trailed off. Suddenly, a thought came to her, and she looked her mum in the eye. “It’s like in school, when they tell ya that everythin’ is moving—the Earth, the planets, everythin. It’s always in motion. But ya can’t feel it. No matter how hard ya try. It’s so hard to believe, that ya start to think that maybe it’s just a story. But when I met Ian…,” she moved closer, an eager expression in her eyes, “When I met ‘im, I could feel it—the turn of the Earth, the burning of the stars…everythin’. It was like I finally understood; it wasn’t just a story. It was… _real_.” 

A heavy, warmth entered Rose’s eyes, and she knew it was her tears begging release. Sniffing, she turned her face away and pressed on. 

“But…but now that he’s…,” Rose took a deep breath, “I-I…I can’t feel it anymore, Mum. It’s gone.” Hot tears finally broke free and trailed her cheeks. “And don’t say that there’s someone else out there, ‘cause I know there’s not. I know ya might think I’m completely daft, but I know with everythin’ I am that it’s the truth.”

Furiously wiping at her tear stained face, Rose faced her mother again. “ _That’s_ what’s so special ‘bout ‘im, Mum. That’s why I…,” she trailed off, taking a sharp, haggard breath, “…why I love ‘im.”

Jackie had remained silent throughout Rose’s explanation, transfixed by what she saw in her daughter’s eyes as she spoke. It was pure and beautiful; and it only added to the aching she felt for her.

“Oh, sweetheart…”

The words had barely left Jackie’s lips before Rose scurried off the sofa, standing up and scrubbing at her face. 

“I’m fine, Mum, really. Ya hungry? How ‘bout I make those scones ya like so much?” 

Without waiting for a reply, Rose flashed a watery smile and left the room. 

****

For the first time in what felt like eons, there were no dreams to pull Ian from his sleep. Rather, it was the bright morning light streaming through his typically closed curtains that roused him. Blinking his eyes into focus, he pushed himself up from what he now realized was his sofa. Continuing to prop himself up with one arm, he used his free hand to wipe the remaining traces of sleep from his eyes. As his eyes focused, so too did his mind; and the events of last night came back to him. Before he could contemplate further, the sound of movement from the direction of the kitchen caught his attention. Sliding off the sofa, Ian headed towards the noise. 

As he entered the kitchen, Ian saw Jack rummaging through the cabinets while a pot of coffee brewed on the counter behind him. Even though he hadn’t had a drop of alcohol, Ian’s head was pounding. It was confusing to him because it was the first time his mind had felt emotionally unburdened in six years; however, he didn’t feel the need to determine the cause of his headache; it really was insignificant. 

Jack heard Ian’s entrance and glanced over at him, flashing a smile before turning back to the cabinets. 

“Did you stay here last night?” Ian asked groggily.

“Yep. By the way, your mattress is incredible,” Jack answered, still searching.

“ _You_ slept in _my_ bed? And left _me_ on the sofa? Hardly seems fair,” Ian grumbled, plopping himself on a bar stool and laying his aching head on the cool countertop. 

“You seemed comfortable-ish,” Jack smirked as Ian snorted. “Ian, you do realize that food is s’posed to go in these things on the wall and this big metallic box, right? So far I’ve found scotch, coffee, a couple bananas, and a green log that I can only assume was bread at one point.”

“Hand me a banana,” he asked, holding out his hand while his head remained on the counter. 

Jack plopped the banana into Ian’s waiting hand and opened one of the cabinets near the coffee maker. 

“Oh look, cups!” Jack said in mock surprise, “Who’d a guessed? Well, that’s one for twenty.”

Ian couldn’t help the smile on his lips. He’d missed this banter, but didn’t realize till that moment how much. A sudden, sharp ache rippled across his forehead, and he groaned.

“I feel like I’ve been hit by a lorry.” 

Jack placed a mug in front of Ian’s resting head. “Ya look like it too,” he jabbed.

Ian raised his head and furrowed his brow. “This,” he said, gesturing between them, “I didn’t miss this.”

“Liar,” Jack replied with a teasing grin. 

Rolling his eyes, but smiling a little wider now, Ian picked up the steaming coffee and took a long sip. 

“So, what are your plans for today?”

“Probably go in after lunch. I’ve gotten behind on multiple things. Won’t be long before they’re calling for my head,” he answered, sighing tiredly and rubbing his forehead.

Jack nodded in acknowledgement and took another sip from his mug. “You should call Rose at some point.”

Every muscle in Ian’s body tensed at hearing that name. His hold on his mug tightened and he stared down at the dark liquid. “W-why,” he cleared his throat, “why would I call her?”

“To let her know you’re okay,” he replied, furrowing his brow in confusion at Ian’s question. “When I called her yesterday, she said you’d left before she went into work.”

Ian lifted his gaze at that statement, looking straight at his brother. “That’s all? She didn’t say anything else?” 

“No…,” Jack drawled, “She said she was busy and had to go. Why? Was there something else she should have told me?”

“No…I guess not.” 

The fact that Rose had said nothing about what had happened was… Well, Ian didn’t know _what_ it was, but he was conflicted about it. The cruel words he’d spat at her in pain, weighed heavy on his heart. He desperately wanted to know how she was, and found himself wishing she had told Jack som-…

Ian’s trail of thought immediately halted as he realized there was a connection between Rose and his brother. “Wait. How do you two even know each other?” 

“Rose has been delivering pastries to our firm every Friday for almost two years.”

Turning his eyes downward again, Ian silently nodded. 

Jack’s confusion was growing by the minute. When he’d spoken to Rose at length, he’d gotten the impression that there was a relationship forming between her and his brother. But after witnessing Rose go to great lengths to find Ian and their personal exchanges in the park, Jack was more than certain of it. However, as Ian sat before him, staring into his cup, Jack felt that there was something he was definitely missing. 

“She’s pretty amazing. Aunt Sarah’s pretty fond of her too,” Jack said, fairly confident this would provoke a reaction. 

Sure enough, Ian’s head darted upright, his eyes widening. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I said Aunt Sarah really liked Rose. Quite taken with her, actually.”

“Go back, go back,” Ian started, his surprise and confusion mounting with each passing moment. “H-how…how does Sarah Jane know Rose? This is the first I’m hearing all of this.”

“It was when we visited Dad’s grave. Sarah Jane stopped by the bakery, and Rose gave her a ride when it started raining. They talked for a bit, and it really helped Sarah Jane. This year was harder on her, and she really appreciated Rose taking the time to listen.”

Ian’s mind was starting to become overwhelmed, but despite that, he couldn’t help but crave any and all information. He hadn’t given much thought to seeing Rose and Jack together at the park; after all, he’d thought he’d returned to his preferred reality. But in the clear light of day, the knowledge that his family knew Rose was mindboggling. 

Jack could practically see Ian’s thought whirling chaotically. He put his mug down and took a few steps towards him, bracing his arms on the countertop. 

“Ian… You know that Rose knows about Dad, right?”

An intense ringing sounded in Ian’s ears as this knowledge hit him full force. He could hardly believe it. Rose had known? For how long? 

“H-how did she find out about him, Jack? I-I…I never told her about any of that!”

“She found out on her own. After she talked to Sarah Jane, she put two and two together, and searched online. I only filled her in on a few details. Not all of them, but she still knows about Harry and what happened to Dad. Has for a while now.”

Ian drug a hand over his face, resting it over his mouth. His mind could not formulate a response to what he’d just learned, barely even able to process it. Rose knew about virtually _everything_. She knew and she’d said nothing, never once letting on about it. Somehow this fact caused his heart to become even more weighed down and suddenly seize with pain. Why hadn’t she said something? Why hadn’t she confronted him with that knowledge when he was standing in her flat? 

“Did something happen between you two?” Jack inquire, seeing a guilt rise into Ian’s eyes. “’Cause I can tell that there’s something you’re not saying.”

Taking a deep breath, Ian pushed back his chair and stood. 

“Can we let this go for now? I… I’m sorta tapped out on the whole talking thing.”

He could see a rebuttal forming on Jack’s lips, so he preempted him. “Please? I’m not saying I won’t talk about it, I just…,” Ian sighed, “I just can’t right now.”

Several beats passed at Jack studied his brother, took in his stance and the tone of his voice. He wanted to know what had happened between Ian and Rose; but at the same time, he knew that he needed to measure his steps wisely when it came to Ian. Though much had been restored last night, Jack knew that he needed to use caution before pursuing anything aggressively, especially this topic. Using an incredible amount of restraint, he nodded in acquiescence. 

“Sure. Later’s fine. I gotta head out, anyway. Have a few things I need to wrap up. You gonna be okay?” 

Offering a small smile, Ian nodded. “Yeah, I’m alr-…,” he started, but stopped as Rose’s voice echoed in his mind. 

_Don’t do that…_

“I’ll be okay,” he said instead, “I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”

“You bet.”

Offering a stronger smile, Ian left to get ready for the day. 

****

“We’re gonna get caught. Y’know that, yeah?”

“We won’t if you stop flippin’ out, so just calm down! ‘Sides, this was _your_ idea.”

“I know, but-…”

“He hurt Rose, Jake.” 

As soon as Mickey said the words, Jake felt his resolve steel. Mickey was right; Ian Smith had hurt Rose—deeply. She might not want to do anything about it, but they were family; they took care of their own. 

“Let’s do it before someone sees us and gets wise.” 

Double checking that they had the right office, Jake twisted the knob very carefully, just in case it was unlocked. Finding it so, he and Mickey entered the office and immediately realized that no one was there. Quickly passing the front desk, the two entered Ian’s office. Jake sat down at Ian’s desk while Mickey kept watch. 

Reaching into his pocket, Jake pulled out a USB drive and put it into port. He pulled the keyboard towards him and began furiously typing away. 

“Ya sure it’s gonna work?”

“Of course. I wrote the program,” Jake smirked, his eyes focused on the screen. 

“Oi! Not the time to start that up again.”

Jake couldn’t help but snort in amusement. “Almost done…,” he said as he typed a few more lines of code. “Got it. Let’s go.”

Standing, Jake pocketed the thumb-drive and followed after Mickey. They were just at the front desk when the main door opened, and they came face to face with an attractive dark-skinned woman. She froze upon seeing them, her eyes widening in shock before narrowing in suspicion. 

“Who are you? What are you two doing in here?” she demanded. 

Both men stared at her, but managed to keep their expressions free from guilt. Suddenly, Jake spoke up. 

“Sorry. We didn’t mean to frighten ya. We just came to fix the computer. S’all taken care of, so we’ll be off now.”

Before the woman could ask any more questions, Jake and Mickey sidestepped her and hurriedly exited the office. 

****

Rose knew…she knew it all. That fact played over and over in Ian’s mind. Even though he knew it to be true, it was still incredibly difficult to believe. Thinking of her inevitably brought their shouting match to the forefront of his mind. The words he’d spouted were cruel, venomous, and hurt him to recall. Try as he might, Ian couldn’t banish the memory of Rose’s face, contorted in pain, and the sob that escaped her. She had valiantly restrained her emotions, he could see her anguish. He remembered how his muscles twitched as they yearned to pull her close, to comfort her. In truth, he wasn’t certain what he would have done if Martha hadn’t thrown him out. 

Ian was truly at a loss as how to proceed. While he had finally allowed himself to let go of the guilt he held for his father’s death, he was now holding guilt for his actions towards Rose. How could he ever make amends for what he’d done? What words were there? Would she even _want_ to hear them? He could not fault her if she never wanted to see him again. Should he even attempt it? 

His mind warred with such questions as he made his way into the building and to his office. On opening the door, Ian was greeted with the sight of Cathica studiously examining several of the files he’d given her earlier in the week. Hearing his entrance, she looked up and her features tensed. 

Seeing her uneasiness filled him with regret, and he approached her. 

“Cathica,” he began, clearing his throat, “I owe you an apology. How I acted… it wasn’t because of anything you had done, but you got caught in the crosshairs. I should never have treated you like I did. It was disrespectful, and I’m truly sorry.”

Cathica’s jaw slacked in shock at Ian’s apology. She was struck not only by its utterance, but also its sincerity. It took a moment before she found her voice. 

“I-I… Thank you, sir. I appreciate you saying that.”

Nodding his head and giving her a closed lip smile, he left Cathica to her work as he began his own. 

****

Carrying a duffle over her shoulder and dragging two suitcases behind her, Rose walked into Donna’s flat. Without announcing her presence, she dropped her luggage by the door and walked the hallway to the living room. Instead of Donna, she saw Wilf sitting in the oversized armchair, arguing with the remote. 

Grinning, Rose walked over and placed a kiss on his head before sitting on the chair arm. “Problem, Gramps?”

He looked up, and on seeing her, his frustration morphed into joy. Leaning over, Wilf reciprocated her affectionate welcome. “Hello, my dear. And yes…Donna ‘upgraded,’ as she put it. Apparently that means having some newfangled clicker. All I want is to do is change the channels, is that too much to ask?”

Rose couldn’t help but heartily chuckle and hold out her hand. “Lemme see.”

After he handed over the offending object, she looked it over and then showed him how it worked. Thanking her, he took back the controller, still muttering insults at it.

“Donna’s in the kitchen, sweetheart, finishin’ up dinner.”

Placing another kiss to his head, Rose left and walked into the kitchen. Donna was at the chopping block, mincing an onion. She looked up and briefly allowed their eyes to meet before focusing back on her task. 

Several beats of silence before Donna spoke. “I see you’ve decided to stop hiding out at your mum and dad’s.”

“That’s not a bit fair, Donna, and you know it,” Rose tersely replied. 

Donna put aside her knife. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have said that.” Taking a breath, she looked up at her best friend. “I was worried when you ran out yesterday. Your phone kept going to voicemail, none of us could reach you.”

Rose ran her hand through her hair and sighed, closing her eyes. 

“We wanted to help you, Rose. It’s what we do, what we’ve always done.”

“It was too much, Donna. All of you there, demanding that I tell you what happened. I couldn’t handle that. I just couldn’t.”

“We weren’t tryin’ to ambush you,” Donna said earnestly. 

“I know,” Rose answered, nodding her head. 

It hadn’t escaped Donna’s notice that Rose still hadn’t looked at her. Wiping her hands on her apron, Donna walked over to her friend and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. Rose instantly felt that familiar comfort and burrowed her head into Donna’s shoulder. 

“We’ve been through a lot, you an’ me. Been side by side for every major event in our lives. And y’know that there isn’t anythin’ I wouldn’t do for you…”

Rose nodded her silent acknowledgement. 

“An’ it’s killin’ me that you won’t let me in this time. I’ve never seen you this way, and it…it frightens me, Rose. It truly does.”

For several minutes there was nothing but silence. Then, Donna felt her shirt begin to dampen and Rose begin to faintly tremble. 

“He doesn’t want me, Donna,” she whispered, her voice strangled with tears. “He doesn’t want me.”

Feeling her own heart tear, Donna pulled her in tighter. “Oh, Rose…”

Finally allowing herself the comfort of her longest and best friend, Rose let her tears fall, drawing strength from Donna’s presence. Donna continued to silently embrace her, and think of multiple methods of torture that she’d like to try out on a certain prat of a prosecutor. 

After a few more minutes, Rose was able to rein in her emotions and she pulled back from Donna, wiping her wetted cheeks. 

“You’re staying here tonight,” Donna informed Rose, leaving no room for debate.

“I know,” Rose replied with a small smile. “But I have to leave early in the morning. I have a flight to catch.”

“What?!” Donna yelped, her eyes wide with surprise. “What do ya mean you have a flight? Where are you going?”

“I, uh…I took Sally up on her offer. I’m gonna go with her to New York. She was s’posed to fly out on Monday, but there were no more seats on that flight. She called Aunt Bev, and she got us seats on a flight for tomorrow. Well, actually it was Jim. Guess he’s got connections with one of the higher-ups in the airline. So…”

Donna couldn’t help but gape and blink repeatedly at her. “H-How long?”

“’Bout three weeks.”

“You’re leavin’ me for _three weeks_?” Donna shrieked, her eyes now bulging.

Rose rolled her eyes at her dramatics. “I’m not leavin’ _you_ , Donna. I’m just…”

“Running away?” Donna proffered gently.

“No, I’m not. I’m just… I need to take a breath, and…and right now, I don’t think I can do that here.”

Though she tried to hide it, Donna could hear the emotions tangled up in Rose’s voice. And even though she’d miss her like crazy, if this was what Rose needed, then Donna was going to back her completely. 

Pushing aside her own conflicting emotions, Donna sighed dramatically. “Alright, fine. But you better bring me back somethin’. And I don’t mean one of those shirts that every bloody tourist tosses their money away on. I want somethin’ high-end. Like, a gorgeous pair of shoes from 5th Avenue… oh, or a hat! An’ it better not be-…”

Donna pulled away and went back to finishing dinner, all the while continuing to natter on about what was and was not acceptable gifts, how she was not to move to “bloody America,” and so on and so forth. Rose smiled and laughed as she listened and watched Donna become more and more animated. Yet no matter how comforted she was by Donna and her flamboyance, it still didn’t change the fact that Rose felt as if she was struggling for air; she had been ever since she last saw Ian. And as each passing hour became more and more difficult, Rose couldn’t help but wonder if there would ever be a time where she’d be able to breathe again. 


	24. "Love With Urgency and Not With Haste"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friday, November 15, 2013
> 
> Title comes from the song "Not With Haste" by Mumford & Sons.
> 
> Wake Me Up--Avicii

Though her alarm had yet to ring, Rose was already awake and readying herself. She’d been able to drift off for a few hours, but her mind was still whirling with snippets of images, words, and emotions. There were periods where the flurry of activity slowed, but it never completely dissipated. Instead of lying awake and staring into the darkness, Rose had rolled out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom, turning on the shower; that was where she was currently. 

She had long since washed, and was now allowing the near scalding water to massage her aching muscles, the billowing steam to envelope her in a warm cocoon. As the water cascaded over her, Rose finally managed to push aside her thoughts and allow her mind to go blank. It required a tremendous amount of effort; and even though it was a marginal amount, it was the first moment of real relaxation she’d experienced in the last two days, and she was infinitely grateful for it. 

However, as she continued to stand under the spray, something Donna had said last night began to prod at her. When Rose had informed Donna of her leaving, Donna had suggested that she was running away. 

_Am I?_

At the time, Rose had denied it; and in all honesty, she had believed her own words. But, the more she thought about it, the more Rose could see that there was an underlying truth she hadn’t acknowledged. In part, she _was_ running. Yes, she felt she needed a breather; but she also couldn’t deal with the pain of staying. The thought of running into Ian—though the odds were unknown—and facing the fact he wanted nothing to do with her was almost frightening. And Rose…well, she just couldn’t risk it. 

“Rose,” Donna hollered, pounding on the locked door, “You’ve been in there for ages, and you’re runnin’ outta time.”

Having been snapped back into reality, Rose poked her head out of the shower curtain. “Alright, alright,” she hollered back, turning off the faucet and grabbing her towel. Swiftly drying off, Rose pulled on her jeans and pink jumper, and began drying her hair. She planned on just doing the bare minimum that morning. It was over an eight hour flight; it would be nonsense to dress to the nines. 

Emerging from the bathroom twenty minutes later, Rose searched and found Donna sitting on the sofa, nursing her morning cup of coffee. Rose sat next to her, grabbing the waiting mug off the table and taking a long sip. 

“Are you absolutely certain you wanna go?”

Rose could hear the slight forlornness in Donna’s question. Though the long separation saddened her, Rose’s mind was decided. 

“Yeah, I’m sure,” she answered with a warm smile. 

“Fine,” Donna huffed, taking another swig of coffee. “But you better bloody well call me or text me every day!”

“Like I need _that_ reminder!” 

They chatted for a good fifteen minutes before there was a knock at the door. Knowing that it was Jake and Sally, Rose placed her cup on the coffee table and answered the door. Hellos were exchanged, and Jake and Sally grabbed Rose’s luggage and left to load it into the car. Rose pulled on her blue leather jacket just before Donna pulled her into a fierce embrace. 

“I’ll phone as soon as we get there, m’kay?”

“You better.”

They broke apart, both misty eyed, and Rose waved a final goodbye. She walked to the waiting vehicle, and climbed into the backseat. 

“Ready?” Jake asked, looking into the rearview mirror.

Rose nodded. “I just need to make a quick stop beforehand.”

“Where?”

She took a breath and silently released it. 

_They’re not going to like this…_

****

“I don’t like this,” Jake grumbled, his hand tightening on the steering wheel. 

“Me neither,” Sally agreed. 

Jake’s nostrils flared as he blew a harsh breath. They were currently waiting in the car outside Ian’s office building while Rose ran inside, never telling them her reason for stopping. Both he and Sally were vocally opposed to the idea, but Rose was unyielding and fierce in her determination. There was no arguing the point with her.

“We shouldn’t even bloody be here. What’s she thinking?”

“I dunno, Jake,” she sighed, “But there’s nothing we can do ‘bout it now. And, at least it’s too early for there to be a problem. I doubt she’ll run into him.”

Jake snorted with contempt, running his hand over his head, effectively ruffling his hair. There were a few beats of silence before Sally spoke again. 

“I don’t understand what happened between those two. I know she’s in love with ‘im, and I coulda sworn he was with her. Or, at the very least, fancied her.”

Whipping his head around, Jake’s eyes widened and then narrowed a few times, as if his brain was shorting out. Finally, something clicked into place, and Jake found his voice.

“What makes y’think Rose’s in love with ‘im? I never heard her say anythin’ like that!”

Sally smiled as she good-naturedly rolled her eyes at him. “She never said the words ‘I love him,’ but it wasn’t hard to spot. The way she looked at him, the way she smiled when _he_ looked at her. I mean, c’mon, Jake—have you _ever_ seen Rose act the way she’s been acting the past week?”

Jake didn’t need any length of time to answer. “Not once.”

Sally nodded in agreement. “She didn’t have to say the words; her actions showed it.”

Their gazes continued to be fixed on each other, and they could both sense something in the mood had changed. Suddenly Jake blinked and turned his eyes away. Only a few seconds of silence passed before Jake nervously cleared his throat.

“So you can tell when someone fancies someone else?” 

Sally whirled her head to look at him, but found his eyes were looking everywhere but at her. Feeling a heat flush her cheeks, she turned her eyes back and downward.

“Usually. It’s…,” she trailed off, suddenly twirling a loose string from her sweater around her finger. “Well, gettin’ them to fess up to it is another thing.”

Neither of them dared look at each other after that exchange, both too nervous and uncertain about how to proceed. Fortunately for them, Rose suddenly reappeared and got into the backseat. 

“M’kay. Let’s go.”

Clearing his throat one more time for good measure, Jake put the car into gear and headed for the airport. Though there was still some awkwardness between Sally and Jake, they managed to put it aside, and the three friends gabbed as per usual. 

Finally, they arrived at Gatwick, and Jake pulled the car over to let them out. After the luggage had been unloaded, they began their goodbyes. Jake pulled Rose into a tight hug.

“Gonna miss ya, sweets,” he said, kissing her temple. “Don’t get any ideas ‘bout staying over there, ya hear me?”

Rose squeezed him a bit tighter. “Not a chance,” she assured him, pulling back and kissing his cheek. 

Jake turned from her, and moved towards Sally, pulling her into a hug. When they pulled back, Sally smiled somewhat bashfully. 

“See ya soon.”

He nodded, but said nothing. They stood there, silently staring at one another. 

“Oh, sod it all,” he growled, grabbing Sally’s arm and fiercely pulling her to him, crashing his lips against hers.

Rose’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head in surprise. Not surprise at his affections, but the way he chose to express them. She couldn’t help the loud guffaw that escaped her before she threw her hand over her mouth.

All of a sudden, Sally yanked back—her eyes wide and lips swollen—and smacked Jake’s arm. 

“What in God’s name was that?”

Jake’s mind and mouth began to stutter, confusion and embarrassment taking over him. 

“I-I…”

Before he could actually say anything, Sally grabbed his shirt and jerked him back to her, returning his earlier kiss with a ferocious and thorough snog of her own. At that point, Rose could not contain herself, and she burst into hysterics. After a solid two minutes, Jake and Sally showed no signs of slowing, and Rose thought it time to break up the happy couple, especially in light of the catcalls and whistling from observers.

Clearing her throat as loud as humanly possible, Rose hollered, “M’kay. Plenty of time for all that later. We’ve sorta got a flight to catch.”

Finally coming up for air, both of them turned and grinned sheepishly at her before turning to face each other once more. 

“You’ve got bloody awful timing, y’know that?” Sally giggled. 

“Better late than never, yeah? Just think of it as motivation to come back,” he grinned. 

Offering him a brilliant grin of her own, Sally placed a quick peck to his lips and grabbed her bags. Rose and Sally waved goodbye and left to catch their flight.

“Nice little show you put on back there. Y’shoulda sold tickets,” Rose teased.

Sally bit her lip to hide her grin before putting on a weak frown.

“Oh, shut it…”

****

Cathica looked up from her computer and glanced at the time—a quarter ‘til noon. Normally, she took lunch closer to 12:30, but she had an errand to run and needed the extra time. Interpreting Ian’s apology as a positive sign of change, Cathica stood from her desk and knocked on his office door, opening it just a tad.

“Sir?”

“Yes, Cathica?” he asked, sparing a brief glance from his consuming workload. 

“I was hoping to take an early lunch. I have an errand to run, and I th-…”

“That’s fine, Cathica. Take as much time as you need,” Ian assured her, offering a small smile before returning his focus back to his work. 

“Thank you, Mr. Smith,” Cathica responded happily. 

Though he couldn’t see the smile she was giving him, he could no doubt hear it in her tone. She hurried back to her desk and grabbed her purse. She had just made to open the door, when she noticed the package she’d failed to give to Ian. Picking it up, she walked back into his office.

“Sorry, Sir. The front reception gave this to me on my way in. Someone dropped it off to them this morning.”

“Thanks. You can just sit on the desk. I’ll look at it later.”

With a small nod of acknowledgement, she placed the book on the edge of the desk and quickly exited. 

As the main door closed, Ian let out a tired sigh and scrubbed his face. Not only was he behind in his caseload, but his job was made ten times harder by the fact that his computer was out of commission. It wasn’t a technical difficulty; no, Ian was well aware that someone had tampered with it. It wasn’t a hard conclusion to draw when every time he clicked the mouse, a stream of random YouTube videos began playing; or, that every ten minutes, a loud blaring horn would sound from the speakers; or, that when he pressed certain characters on the keyboard, various words popped up on screen, such as _wanker_ , _bloody git_ , and several others that Ian had never before heard. 

Ian had strong suspicions as to who the culprit was, suspicions that were confirmed by Cathica’s description of the two men who she found leaving the office. Though he was extremely aggravated and upset with the situation, he couldn’t blame Mickey and Jake for taking some form of revenge against him. No doubt they were aware, at least in part, of what happened between him and Rose. 

For the umpteenth time that morning, Ian’s thoughts were drawn to Rose. He missed her, plain and simple. He missed seeing her smile, hearing her laugh, inhaling her scent. The memories alone were nowhere near enough for him. But for every pleasurable memory, there was another of their horrid last encounter. The look on her face, the pain in her eyes matching his own, the strangled sob. Each time he remembered, Ian felt his heart tighten. That feeling only intensified after he learned that Rose had known everything. She’d known and had kept silent. 

As his memories started to run rampant was again, Ian closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, releasing yet another long sigh. While he did so, he heard the sound of his door opening. He opened his eyes, and instantly felt his stomach plummet. Standing before him was Pete Tyler. 

As if on instinct, Ian rose to his feet, staring wide eyed at the man. Neither of them spoke a word as they regarded each other. Not waiting or caring for an invitation, Pete walked in and sat down in one of the chairs directly in front of Ian’s desk. Ian remained standing, shocked and unsure of what to do. Pete wordlessly stared at him, his features expressionless and his gaze focused and penetrating. Lifting a finger, he gestured for Ian to sit, which he did without question. 

Ian couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of déjà vu as Pete continued to keep his piercing eyes centered on him, almost as if he had been transported back to father-in-law’s office. And just as he had then, Ian felt incredibly unnerved. He couldn-…

“I didn’t particularly care for you when we first met,” Pete said suddenly, his voice halting Ian’s train of thought.

“Oh…” Ian was aware it was hardly an intelligent response, but it was honestly the best he could manage. 

“And, to be perfectly frank, I’m even _less_ than fond of you now. I think you know why.”

Shame settled over Ian because _yes_ , he _did_ know why; he knew and it literally hurt his heart. His lips parted as he went to respond, but closed them as he thought better of it. Instead, Ian simply nodded. 

Pete reciprocated with a nod of his own. “I thought as much,” he said quietly. There was a slight pause before he spoke again. “So, am I correct in thinking that you’re wondering why I didn’t care for you at that first meeting?”

“I am,” Ian confirmed. He genuinely was interested. From what he remembered, he was quite certain that he had been friendly; at least, friendlier than his acquired norm. 

“When we were first introduced, I couldn’t figure out why you were there. It was obvious that you didn’t really know the majority of us; but, I quickly realized that there was someone you _did_ know quite well—my daughter…”

The tone Pete used when emphasizing the last two words made Ian squirm just a tad. In that tone, Pete made it abundantly clear, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he was not a man with whom to trifle. 

“Naturally, that meant that you had my _complete_ attention. And while you did interact with everyone at times, I found you to be somewhat standoffish. You were never completely present, almost as if you were trying to hide something.”

Once again, Ian found himself squirming in this man’s presence. “I wasn-…that is, I d-…” He wanted to form some sort of rebuttal, but he knew that there was nothing he could refute. Pete was right; he realized that now. 

“But there was something else I saw, and that was how Rose was with you…and how you were with her. I saw how you both would look at one another when the other wasn’t looking. And then when we all realized you had run off…well, that especially caught my notice. Rose has _never_ shown that type of interest in _anyone_. Not once. 

“Seeing you two together, seeing that something was definitely going on between you two…I couldn’t understand it, still don’t, to be honest. And it…well, it took a lot of restraint on my part to not say somethin’ to _both_ of you, to not dig up every small detail on the man that my daughter had fallen for. And I’m sure you know I could have managed that very easily with the people I have working for me, considering what they were able to do with your computer there,” Pete said with a confident smirk. 

Ian’s eyebrow instantly arched. “You had them do that?”

“No,” Pete shook his head, “But they weren’t able to keep it hidden from me for long, considering I found them practically cackling about it when they came into work. Although, I have to admit, it was rather amusing,” he finished with a small chuckle. 

“Amusing’s not exactly the word I’d go with,” Ian replied, “but it was impressive how clever they were.”

“They’re incredibly talented…,” Pete’s eyes became piercing once more, “They are also incredibly loyal and protective of their family, as am I.”

Sighing, Ian leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest, one coming up to rub his forehead. 

“So…I take it that means you know,” Ian said wearily, dropping his hand and meeting Pete’s gaze.

At this, Pete mimicked Ian’s earlier action and leaned back in his chair. “That depends. What are you referring to?”

“Is that some sort of joke?” Ian asked incredulously, an eyebrow arced high. 

“Do I look to be in a joking mood, Ian?” Pete asked pointedly. 

“Well, what exactly am I supposed to think when you…,” Ian trailed off, refusing to allow himself to become angry with the man. “I was referring to what happened between me and Rose. What I-…what I said the last time…the last time we saw each other.”

“I have a general idea.”

“She…Rose didn’t tell you?” Ian asked in marked surprise. 

“Does that sound like something she would do?”

“I wouldn’t blame her if sh-…”

“No,” Pete interjected swiftly, straightening his posture and leaning forward. “That’s not what I asked you, Ian. What I asked you was, does that sound like Rose. Do you think—knowing her as I’m certain you do—that she would run off at the mouth about something that was obviously a deeply personal matter between you two?”

Looking back on his life with Rose, on her actions in this and the other reality, Ian knew she would not broadcast what happened between them. After all, she’d known about the horror that had happened to him and his family, and yet she had never once divulged it. 

“No, she wouldn’t,” Ian said, his voice low yet firm. There was a brief pause and then Ian spoke again. “Pete-…,” Ian saw him tense, “Mr. Tyler, why exactly are you here?”

Pete took a breath and exhaled slowly, as if gearing himself up for the coming words. “I may not know details about what happened with you two, but I do know this: I have _never_ seen my daughter like the way she is now. And you have no idea what that’s like for a father, to see your child in pain, and be completely useless…” 

He trailed off as his voice became tight with emotion. Shutting his eyes for the briefest of moments, Pete collected himself and continued. 

“I may not be able to take her pain away, to fix it…but, _you_ can.”

Ian felt a familiar tightness in his chest. “Mr. Tyler, I don’t think I ca-…”

“Do you love her?”

Pete’s direct and unexpected question knocked the wind out of Ian. It took concerted effort for him to formulate words.

“It’s not that sim-…”

“Do you love her?” Pete asked again, halting Ian’s response.

“She deserves m-…”

Pete moved forward, sitting on the edge of his seat, his eyes focused intently on the young man in front of him. 

“Do you love her?”

Ian held Pete’s gaze as his mind warred within him, but it was a losing battle. Instead of giving an _answer_ , he told the _truth_.

“More than anything.”

His words caused Pete’s eyes to soften ever so slightly. “Then don’t push her away. I don’t know if you think you’re somehow protecting her or what not, but believe me, all you’re doing is hurting you both. Pushing someone away doesn’t prevent pain, it causes it. She…she needs _you_ just as much as you need _her_.”

Whatever trace air had lingered in his lungs, immediately vanished at Pete’s words. Ian felt his heart stop and then accelerate as he realized that Pete had already spoken these words to him—when he was in the other reality, after he and Rose had left hospital. His mind began to whirl with memories of that day, followed by all the other days. He desperately tried to make sense of an impossible happening. Could it really be…

“Well,” Pete said, standing, “I think I’ve stayed long enough.” 

He turned to leave, but halted as his eyes skimmed over the package on Ian’s desk. He looked back at Ian, his brow creasing. 

“Was Rose here?”

“No, she wasn’t. Why would you think she had been?” Ian asked in equal confusion. 

Pete pointed to the lettering on the package. “’Cause that’s her handwriting. I’d recognize it anywhere.”

Ian’s eyes widened in shock before turning their attention to the package. Realizing that Ian was truly in ignorance, Pete simply nodded. 

“Well, I’ll leave you to it.” Without another word, Pete turned and walked out. 

Ian couldn’t tear his focus off of the object on his desk, nor could he will his feet to move. What could she have possibly given him? And why would she want to?

It was then that he realized he had moved, his hands now gripping the package. His fingertips faintly traced the name written— _C. Smith_.

Tearing back the brown paper, Ian’s jaw slacked and he braced his weight on the desk, completely in shock. In his hands was his father’s leather-bound copy of Shakespeare. He vaguely remembered taking it with him into the park, but in the aftermath of everything, Ian had completely forgotten about it. 

A small, folded piece of paper fluttered to the floor. Placing the book back on the desk, he bent down and picked up the fallen paper, opening it.

**_Even though it was for one fleeting moment, it was worth every heartache…always will be._ **

**_Rose_ **

His thoughts instantly went to their ‘rebellious’ stroll, and the conversation they had shared. When he’d spoken his father’s words to her. When she had taken his hand. When her lips gently caressed his cheek. When he’d told her his name. 

As he recalled the details, a multitude of emotions rushed over Ian, love being the predominate one. All-consuming love for this woman who inexplicably knew him, knew his demons, and yet loved him still. And he didn’t just want her, he _needed_ her. Needed her as he needed air. It was essential. 

It was that fundamental truth that had him dropping everything and racing out the room to find his Rose.

****

Donna did her level best to mince garlic and not be worried about Rose; and she had been doing quite impressive. That is until Lynda came scurrying into the kitchen, her eyes wide and uncertain, and already babbling away. 

“Okay, he’s back, and I’m not sure what I’m s’posed to do. He’s not upset or yellin’, but I’m not certain what’s goin’ on. He says he needs to talk to you, and he’s all sweaty and panting, like he was runnin’ some sorta race. An’ h-…”

“Lynda!” Donna stopped her, “I have no clue what you’re talking about. So, in five words or less, tell me plainly what’s goin’ on.”

Lynda looked upward, choosing the most relevant five words. Taking a deep breath, she looked at Donna, and counting with her fingers, said, “Skinny, pinstriped man wants you.”

Lynda had no sooner finished speaking, when Donna’s eyes began to blaze. She stormed out of the kitchen, and seconds later, she was back, dragging Ian Smith behind her. She whirled around to face him, just as he opened his mouth to speak. 

“Oi!” she hollered, “No one here said y’could open your bloody gob, so I suggest you shut it!”

It was clear Ian desperately wanted to say something, but he obeyed and closed his mouth. 

“That’s better! You hurt Rose, my best friend in the world. Hurt her so much she won’t talk to anyone ‘bout what’s goin’ on. Not really, at least. Do ya have any idea how much that infuriates me?! That some stupid prat broke her heart, and now that same prat waltzes into my shop?!”

Ian continued to remain silent, which only seemed to anger Donna even more.

“Well?!”

“You told me to shut it,” Ian defended. 

“But then I asked you a bleedin’ question,” she snapped.

“You’re a very confusing woman,” Ian grumbled, rubbing his temples.

“And you’re a bloody wanker!” Donna countered hotly, “Still doesn’t explain what you’re doin’ here, now does it?”

“I need to see Rose.”

Donna snorted and barked laughter. “Oh, that’s rich! You’re a right nutter if y’think that’s _ever_ gonna happen!”

“Donna, please!” Ian begged, running his hand through his hair. “I went to her flat, but no one answered. I went to the bakery, and there was a note posted saying it would be closed for three weeks. I _know_ you know where she is. Like you said, she’s your best friend. Please!”

Ian’s sincere pleading took her completely by surprise. There was a desperate look in his eyes as he spoke. Despite her better judgment (and the strong urge to demonstrate her exceptional knife skills), Donna decided to delve further.

“Give me one reason why I should even entertain the idea of tellin’ you anythin’,” she demanded, crossing her arms.

“Because you’re right! I was an utter wanker to Rose. I royally screwed up, and I hurt her. And it kills me to know that! To know that I broke her heart, to know that she shed tears over me. But I have to see her. She has every right to hate me, but I can’t go another day without her knowing the truth—that I love her.”

Donna knew her eyes were bulging clean out of her skull, but it was unavoidable. That was not what she had expected. She cleared her throat to regain her composure.

“You can’t see her…,” she started softly.

Ian stepped towards her in urgency. “Donna, please! I-…”

“You can’t see her,” Donna cut in, “because she’s not here. She’s gone.”

His heart plummeted. “What do you mean? Where is she?”

“New York. She and Sally left early this morning. That’s why the bakery’s closed for three weeks.”

Ian closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. She wasn’t supposed to leave. He couldn’t let her slip through his fingers…he _wouldn’t_.

“Donna…please. I-…I need her.”

She blinked at him several times before sighing and grabbing a tablet and pen. After scribbling several things, she tore the paper in half, holding them out to him.

“This one is her mobile,” she gestured with her right hand, “and this one,” she gestured with her left, “is the address where they’re stayin’. So…just how badly do you need her?”

Ian locked his eyes with hers before making his choice and taking one of the papers. Donna cocked an eyebrow in slight surprise at his decision. He turned to leave, but then stopped and pulled her into a quick and awkward hug.

“Alright, alright. Don’t go gettin’ all touchy-feely.”

He couldn’t help but give a small chuckle. “Thank you, Donna.”

****

Ian ran out the restaurant, the paper firmly clutched in on one hand as he hailed a cab with the other. As the black car pulled over for him, he threw open the door and climbed in. 

“Where to, mate?” the cabbie asked, looking up into the mirror.

Looking back at him, Ian said one word.

“Heathrow.”


	25. To Where You Are

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friday, November 15, 2013
> 
> I put in a few cameos, one of which is a crossover. Hope ya like! Special character in here dedicated to the amazing Elensari (who is awesome and you should definitely read her work!). Anyway, thank you to all who continue to read. You're wonderful!
> 
> Come Back to Me--David Cook and The Reason--Hoobastank

The taxi had barely come to a stop before Ian threw the door open, tossing more than the due amount at the cabbie, and running into the airport. He didn’t bother perusing the various airline carriers, instead running up to the first available clerk, slightly out of breath as he reached the counter.

Hearing his labored breathing, the curly haired woman looked up from her computer screen and arched a dark eyebrow at him. 

“I need to purchase a ticket,” Ian managed to gasp out. 

“Well, that’s rather convenient, isn’t it?” she replied, a smirk emerging. 

Ian narrowed his eyes at the woman’s sardonic response; he really wasn’t in the mood for her games. 

“If it’s all the same to you, I’ll pass on the sarcasm and just stick with the plane ticket. How’s that sound?”

The woman’s smirk widened and her eyebrows flicked upward briefly. “No need to get yourself worked up, sweetie; even though it does make you quite the pretty boy.”

“You do realize that this is an airport, don’t you? Not some sort of dating service?” Ian spat hotly, thoroughly annoyed with this curly mopped menace. The overt flirting he could ignore, but she was standing between him and his Rose, and _that_ was not something he was going to tolerate. 

His manner didn’t seem to put her off in the slightest, but she finally turned her attention to her computer, typing away at the keys.

“Destination?”

“New York City,” he replied hurriedly. “I need the first flight out. I don’t care what it costs; I just need to leave immediately.”

She continued to furiously type away before suddenly looking back up at him. “Alright, I need a form of payment, as well as two forms of identification, including your passport.”

Ian had just reached into his coat pocket to retrieve his wallet, when the mention of his passport stopped his hand midair. His stomach plummeted as he realized that, in his haste to chase after Rose, he’d left entirely unprepared.

Seeing his change in demeanor, the clerk arched her brow yet again. “Hmm… ’Fraid I can’t let you purchase a ticket without the proper documentation.”

Hot frustration brewed within him, and he blew out a ragged breath. “Can you at least tell me what time the flight departs? Or if there are any others?”

“Ooh, sorry, sweetie,” she hissed cheekily, winking at him, “Spoilers.”

Uninterested in playing into whatever nonsense she was spewing, Ian practically growled and stormed off, pulling out his mobile as he moved away from the irritating clerk. He quickly scrolled through his contacts, looking for the best choice to come to his aid. Time was of the essence, and Ian didn’t want to waste any precious minutes by leaving the airport. It made much more sense for someone to bring what he needed to him. 

The first name to come to mind was his brother’s. He hurriedly selected the number and impatiently paced as he waited for Jack to answer. One ring led into another, and Ian’s impatience grew. Finally, Jack’s voicemail clicked on, and Ian’s eyes rolled upward as he listened to the message. 

A beep sounded and Ian immediately began, “Jack…why now, of all times, do you chose _not_ to answer your bloody mobile? I mean, honestly, what’s the bloody point of having a mobile if you don’t bloody _answer_ _it_?!”

With a huff, Ian ended his one-sided argument and immediately tried the office number, only to be told that Jack was in court. Ending the call, Ian ruffled the back of his head before recommencing his pacing. He knew trying Cathica was a dead end, remembering that she had mentioned some appointment. Another name came to him and he immediately ceased his impatient movement. He gave it the briefest of second thoughts before selecting the contact and putting the mobile to his ear. 

After two rings, the call was picked up.

_“Hello?”_

Inhaling a sharp breath, Ian dove straight into his request. “I need your help. I know you have absolutely every reason to refuse, especially after how I acted last time. I was horrible to you…A complete and utter cad, and I can’t apologize enough for that, but…please… will you help me?”

***

Sarah Jane clutched the door handle, her knuckles ghostly white, as the taxi meandered like a madman through the multitude of vehicles making their way to their respective departure points. Horns blared and gestures were made as the cabbie continued to aggressively dart and cutoff the neighboring drivers, nearly clipping many of them. 

Suddenly the cab screeched to a halt, and Sarah Jane shakily released a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. Grabbing her purse with a huff, she opened the door and slammed it shut behind her. She stepped to the driver’s side and glared at the cabbie as she noticed his hand hanging out of the window, as if waiting for a tip.

“You must be joking!” she grumbled loudly. “Since when does _barely_ making it out with your life constitute a reason for a tip? Has that become some sorta added bonus?”

“Issa cab, dearie, not a carriage. Wasn’t paid double to getcha ‘ere all nice an’ timid-like. The man said ta getcha ‘ere at all costs, an’ ‘ats watcha got,” the gruff man retorted, his eyes motioning towards his empty palm.

Sarah Jane glared at him before rolling her eyes. “Oh, get your bleedin’ hand back in the car. Consider the absence of my hand across your face as your tip,” she groused, swatting his hand away before irritably stomping off to meet her nephew. 

As the glass doors parted, Sarah Jane’s eyes immediately began roving about the area, scouting for any sign of Ian. It took only a minute or two before she spotted him, his eyes searching the crowd. Their gazes met, and Ian gave a visible sigh of relief before rushing over to her. Sarah Jane was still surprised that Ian had phoned her of his own volition. She had been sorely tempted to press for further conversation, but his demeanor on the phone had been one of sincere desperation, so she refrained from delving further. But now that her task was completed, there was nothing to hold her back. 

“Did you find it?” he asked her, the anxiety and impatience clearly evident in his tone. 

“Next time you send a taxi ‘round for me, please do me a favor and make sure the cabbie isn’t some sort of kamikaze lunatic. I can’t even count the number of times that I saw a white light during that ride.”

Ian offered a tight, hurried smile. “Yes, well, I don’t plan on ever having a repeat of this situation.”

Reaching into her purse, Sarah Jane pulled out a passport. Ian eagerly reached for it, but she pulled her hand back just before he could take it in hand. 

“Speaking of which, just why exactly am I racing to the airport, risking life and limb?”

“I need my passport before I can get on the plane,” Ian answered, once again reaching forward.

“Well, thank goodness we cleared up that point,” Sarah Jane replied. “Honestly, Ian, I gathered that much on my own. What I’m asking you is _why_ do you need your passport? What is so pressing that you had to run off with nothing but the clothes on your back?”

“I…,” Ian rubbed the back of his neck, “I have to find Rose.”

Sarah Jane blinked slowly several times before honing her eyes onto her nephew. “ _Find_ implies _lost_. Did something happen to Rose? I wasn’t aware that you two were together.”

“We, uh...,” Ian started, briefly rubbing the back of his neck as he darted his eyes around nervously, “Well, we weren’t exac-…it’s complicated.”

Her eyes narrowed at his poorly executed response. “Then simplify it for me.”

Closing his eyes tightly, Ian released a haggard breath. He was torn between shame and the desire to purge. Finally finding his voice, Ian spoke.

“We weren’t exactly…together. I mean we spent time together…a fair bit of time…but we were never actually a couple. But there…,” he sighed, “there was something there. Something I didn’t want to admit to. Neither of us said anything about it until…”

Sarah Jane’s eyes further narrowed, becoming the thinnest of slits as he trailed off. Her journalistic intuition coupled with lifelong knowledge of her nephew, assured her with certainty that something profound and unsettling had transpired. 

“Until what?”

Running a nervous hand across the back of his neck, Ian released a harsh breath. “Until about three nights ago when everything…exploded. To make an insane and frustratingly confusing story short, I passed out in the middle of St. James’ Park and somehow Rose and Jack found me. I had a nightmare and woke up in her flat, completely lost. She was right beside me and I…I kissed her…then I…I pushed her away, in pretty much every sense of the word. Told her that it meant nothing, that I didn’t feel anything. She…she called me out…said that she could see I was in pain, that I couldn’t hide from her. I told her that…”

Ian trailed off again, turning his head and shutting his eyes. The words he’d spewed at her echoed in his mind, and it was incredibly painful to relive. Gulping down the building emotion, he turned his head back to his aunt, yet still not meeting her gaze.

“I told her that I didn’t need or want her meddling in my life. That she was child for thinking that I was someone she could help. That if I could change it…that I…I would never have met her.”

There—the words had been said, the sin admitted. Releasing one more shuddering breath, Ian finally allowed his eyes to meet Sarah Jane’s. As they roved over her face, he saw…nothing. Not one decipherable emotion. He’d forgotten that professional stoicism of hers and how frustratingly unsettled it made him feel. 

Wordlessly, Sarah Jane held the passport out to him. Ian, his mouth slightly agape in surprise, reached out to take it. His fingers had barely found purchase on its stiff exterior when Sarah Jane swiftly pulled it back and smacked her free hand hard against the side of his head. 

Ian squawked in pain and clutched at the side of his head. 

“You…you daft, bloody prat!” Sarah Jane seethed. “How dare you say such a thing to _anybody_ , let alone a sweet young woman like Rose? You were _not_ raised to be such a bloody heartless cad! Shame on you, Ian!”

“I know that, Sarah!” Ian countered in reply, his voice loud yet free from harshness. “Believe me—I out of everybody know how badly I bollocksed things!”

“What in Heaven’s name possessed you to say such vile, hateful things?” she demanded, her nostrils flaring. 

“Because I was afraid!” Ian admitted hotly. “Rose is…she’s by far the best person I know, and…and the way she looked at me…I couldn’t handle it. I had years of guilt weighing on me and to see her looking at me with so much… _love_ …I co-…I couldn’t understand it, Sarah. I was convinced that if she knew about everything that’d happened, everything about _me_ …,” Ian trailed off yet again, closing his eyes and taking another much needed breath. “Turns out that she already knew…known for quite a while.” 

Opening his eyes, he again looked at Sarah Jane. Her eyes were piercing, appraising, taking in every edge of his countenance. Pursing her lips, she extended her hand once again. Ian flicked his eyes down to the offered passport and back to her face, judging the sincerity of the action. Cautiously he reached for the passport. His fingers latching onto it, he pulled it towards him but Sarah Jane continued to hold fast to it.

“Listen, and listen well, Cillian Andrew Smith. If I ever hear of you doing such a horrid thing ever again, I will personally tan your hide; I don’t bloody care how old you are. And don’t you _dare_ doubt even for a second that I can do it, understand?”

Her tone was direct, her boring gaze never once faltering; and Ian had absolutely no doubt that she was in earnest. 

“I swear to you I won’t—not to anybody, especially Rose,” he vowed to her with mirroring intensity. 

Satisfied, Sarah Jane released her hold on the much sought after object. With a blinding, boyish grin, Ian swiftly kissed her cheek before bolting to find his love.

***

_She could hear his harsh breathing, ragged and rapid, as if his lungs couldn’t capture any lasting air. She was worried for him, the anxiety over his earlier distress weighing heavily on her heart. Her hand continued to cup his face, her thumb stroking the soft skin of his cheek._

_Her lips were parted, questioning concern on her tongue. Before she could give voice to them, he moved forward again and grasped the back of her head, his long fingers using her sleep-messed hair as an anchor._

_Even in the darkened room, she could see the raging storm of emotion in his eyes—one of desperation, longing, and…was that fear?_

_The intensity rendered her mute, and she could merely kneel captivated before him. In an instant, his lips fiercely captured hers with such urgency that it took her breath away._

_He tightened his hold and pulled her closer to him. He was a drowning man seeking a lifeline. Her hand wrapped around his neck, assuring him that she was there, that she was eager and willing to be that lifeline._

_All too suddenly, he harshly pulled away. Her eyes remained closed, her mind hazy and trying to comprehend the abrupt and unwelcomed loss of his touch. When she finally had the strength to open her eyes, she saw the look in his eyes had altered, now cold and distant, void of the overwhelming love she’d seen mere moments ago._

_She-…_

“Rose, wake up. We’ve stopped.”

Sally’s sudden voice and nudge unceremoniously pulled Rose from her dreamed recollections. Her eyes fluttered open and she realized, much to her disgust, that she had been asleep and drooling on the cab window. Grimacing, she sat up straight and wiped her face. Hopefully she wouldn’t contract whatever was more than likely culturing on the cab window. 

They had been in the cab roughly thirty minutes, but Rose had fallen asleep almost as soon as her bum hit the seat. It had been a rough journey. She had been up for hours and hadn’t slept a wink on the flight. There had been a good stretch of turbulence, the food below par (even for airline cuisine), the inflight film was incredibly boring, and then to top it all off, a wailing infant had vomited all over her favorite leather jacket. The exhausted young mother had been so embarrassed and apologetic that Rose couldn’t bring herself to be angry at her. The woman had even gone as far as to give Rose her own sweater. Rose had protested, but the woman would have none of it. After wearing it the majority of the flight, Rose had to admit the oversized cable-knit was an incredibly soft and comfortable compensation. 

Seeing Sally was already waiting outside, Rose quickly gathered her purse and exited the cab. Stretching the tightness out of her limbs, she took in the scenery. The street was surprisingly calm, only a few passersby wandering by them. There were brownstones on either side of them with gated trees lining the length of the street, their leaves comprised of vibrant reds and yellows. It was a lovely and quite impressive sight. 

After unloading their luggage, Sally and Rose climbed the aged stone steps. As Sally opened the door, Rose felt her jaw slack at the beauty of the interior. Everything, from the wood flooring to the copper tiled ceiling, was gorgeous. Aged, maybe, but elegantly so. 

Rose looked over at her cousin and found that she too was struck by the surroundings. 

“Exactly what kind of business is Jim in?”

“Dunno,” Sally shrugged, “I sorta zoned out every time he started talking ‘bout it.”

“Maybe you shoulda paid attention. This place is hu-…”

Her sentence was abruptly cut off by the ecstatic squeals of her Aunt Bev, who sprinted over to the two girls and wrapped them tightly in her arms, rocking them side to side.

“I thought you’d never get here,” Bev said excitedly, volleying kiss after kiss to each girl’s cheek. 

After what seemed like ages, Bev released Rose and Sally, taking a few steps back to properly look at them. “I’m so sorry we couldn’t be there to give you two a lift. I had to take Jim to the doctor. The silly man practically has a phobia when it comes to ‘em.”

“It’s not a phobia,” a male voice suddenly spoke up, “It’s a strong dislike.”

Bev turned around while Rose and Sally leaned to the side to see Jim approaching them, a good-natured smile gracing his face. Reaching them, he put his arm around Bev’s shoulder. 

“Oh, please!” she swatted his chest, “You’re like a blubbering baby every time. It’s a wonder they don’t give you a lolly after it’s all said an’ done.”

With a small smile, Jim rolled his eyes before extricating himself from his wife and walking to his stepdaughter. 

“Great to finally have you here, Sally,” he greeted, warmly embracing her and pecking her cheek. 

“Sorry ‘bout it takin’ so long,” she replied, offering an apologetic smile. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout that,” he assured her with a wave of his hand, “The important thing is that we finally got ya here.”

Stepping away from Sally, he turned to Rose and offered her the same greeting. “I know I’ve only met you a handful of times, but I’m glad you decided to come with Sally. Bev’s always raving ‘bout you and it’ll be nice to get to know you.”

“I really can’t thank ya enough for gettin’ the flight switched,” Rose said. “I didn’t mean for ya to go through all that trouble.”

“Oh, please!” Jim rolled his eyes, “It wasn’t any trouble. Not by a long shot. Louie owes me so many favors, I’ve lost count. I’ve pulled his butt out of the fire so many times, a flight change is the least he can do. By the way, how was the flight?”

Rose and Sally exchanged glances before Sally spoke up. “S’alright. Y’know…can’t expect much for such a long trip.”

The joyful expression left Jim’s eyes and he furrowed his eyebrows. “What do ya mean ‘alright’? You were supposed to have the best seats available.”

“It was fine, honestly,” Rose assured him, but Jim wasn’t having any of it. 

“Friggin’ jerk,” he mumbled under his breath before pulling out his phone and dialing. “Louie! I asked you to fix things for my stepdaughter and niece, and y-… What? I don’t care if you’re on the freaking crapper, I-...” 

Jim’s voice faded as he turned and walked hotly down the hall. The three women could only stare after him—Rose and Sally with surprised expressions, and Bev with one of pride. 

“I just love it when he gets all feisty.”

Both girls turned to look at Bev who was now wearing a cheeky grin as she continued to stare after her husband.

“Ugh,” Sally groaned, “Mum, that’s just gross.” 

“What?” Bev squawked. “I’m a woman. It’s per-…”

“Please, Aunt Bev! It was bad enough when Mum started talkin’ ‘bout her bleedin’ uterus during dinner. I really don’t wanna know how you’re gonna finish that sentence,” Rose begged. “Can ya show me where the loo is in this museum? I’m fairly certain I got baby vomit in my hair and I’d really like to wash off!”

With a huff and roll of her eyes, Bev gathered a few of the girls’ bags and led the way to their rooms. 

****

Releasing a highly frustrated breath, Ian dropped his head against the headrest and stared at the ceiling. This was by far the longest journey of his life. He couldn’t help but snort at the deeper meaning to that sentiment. But returning his thoughts to the literal journey, Ian was incredibly irritated. It felt never-ending, as if every force imaginable was fighting against him; whether for amusement or punishment, he couldn’t determine. 

It was by pure happenstance that he was able to obtain a flight at all. After Sarah Jane had relinquished his passport, he’d run back to the clerk’s desk and thanked his stars that the infuriating woman from earlier was no longer there. Instead, there was a dark haired young woman with a warm smile and kind eyes. She’d regretfully informed him that the flight with the only available seat was just about to depart. Ian had pleaded and the desperation was evident in his manner. Something settled over her features, and she quickly picked up the phone in front of her. He listened in confusion to her side of the conversation. 

When she finally ended the call, she typed and clicked away before finally handing him a ticket. Ian’s eyes had widened as he took it. 

“You better like to run, ‘cause ya ‘ve got exactly eleven minutes to get to the gate,” she grinned. 

There were so many questions running through his mind, but in light of the countdown, Ian stifled them. Finally looking at the young woman’s nametag, he grinned before lurching forward and pressing a quick peck to her forehead. 

“You’re a lifesaver, Clara.”

Clara’s grin widened. “That’s what they tell me. Now get a move on!” 

He’d barely made it before they shut the gate for good. Glancing at his ticket, he noticed he was seated in first-class—something he knew cost a pretty penny, but didn’t faze him in the slightest. The passengers in first-class were sparse, and therefore, he wasn’t forced to have interaction with any of them. Well, except for some tall, dark haired man, who insisted that Ian move, as he had somehow been assigned to the seat next to his wife, and seeing that Ian was clearly having relationship troubles and was currently in route to see said woman, he had no use in sitting next to a woman, especially his wife. 

Ian was just about to inform the glowering mess of black curls (honestly, was there some sort of genetic trait that inherently made them infuriating?) that if he would shut his gob long enough, then he would move, when the man’s wife smilingly instructed him to “take a day off,” showing an incredible amount of fierce strength for such a petite woman as she took his hand and led him to an open set of seats directly cater-corner to his. Apparently this didn’t fully appease the man, because Ian could practically feel his ice blue eyes boring into the back of his skull for hours. 

And now, here they were, rerouted to Dulles and waiting on the tarmac with no end in sight. He sighed once again. All he wanted was to get to Rose—did the Universe really feel the need to toy with him? How much longer wo-…

His train of thought was halted as a flight attendant plopped down into the seat across the aisle from him, a glass in hand of what clearly smelt of alcohol. Sighing, she toed off her heels and burrowed further into the leather seat. Sensing Ian’s gaze, she turned to look at him, arching a dark brow.

“Can I help you?” she asked sarcastically. “Actually, wait…don’t answer that. I’m on break, so if ya need somethin’, find it yourself.”

Not only was Ian surprised by her American accent, but also by her unprofessional response. “Um…isn’t that against some sort of regulations or whatnot?”

Taking a long sip, she looked back at him. “Listen, bud, I just had to remind the guy back in 14F to stay out of my ‘No-Fly Zone’ for the tenth time in two hours. So, right now, you could get on the PA and sing show tunes if it floats your boat; but I’m staying right here and knockin’ back a few. Six hours on the tarmac and McGrabby back there are enough to drive any sane person to drink.”

Ian couldn’t help but blink rapidly then grin at her blunt response. He couldn’t fault her for needing a cooling off period, or a drink for that matter. 

“What was that?” she suddenly asked, taking another sip. 

“What was what?” Ian asked, confusion written on his brow. 

Lifting one of the fingers that held her glass, she circled his face. “That look.”

He fidgeted in his seat. “There wasn’t a look.”

“No, there was a look,” the petite woman from earlier spoke up.

Both Ian and the flight attendant turned to see that her attention wasn’t even turned to them.

“And how would you know?” Ian asked, the slightest bite lacing his words. “You’re practically enraptured with your book there.”

“Fourteen hours in close quarters, trust me…I’ve seen the look,” she countered, her eyes still focused on the printed page. “You’re just fortunate _he_ didn’t get a chance to see more than he already did,” she motioned towards her sleeping husband.

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask, is he alright?” the attendant asked. “’Cause he’s been out like a light since the beginning.”

The Englishwoman looked over at her husband and smiled softly. “Oh, he’s fine. Just having a bit of a kip.”

“Ya sure? I feel like we should poke ‘im with a stick or somethin’, y’know…just to make sure he’s still breathing.”

“I promise he’s fine. I didn’t give him that much.”

“Give him…you mean…,” Ian trailed of in shock, his eyes widening as the pieces fell into place. 

The flight attendant let out a hearty laugh. “You drugged him. That’s freakin’ awesome,” she laughed again before taking another swig. 

“You actually drugged your husband? That seems like a happy marriage,” Ian murmured. 

“He’s been working on a case nonstop and hasn’t slept in almost three days. I merely gave him some…encouragement.” Finally looking up from her book, her eyes locked with Ian’s. “And somethin’ tells me that you’re not one who should be throwing stones. Or was he wrong earlier?”

Ian was surprised to find himself fidgeting under the small woman’s stare as his mind began to once again replay the events over the past two weeks.

“See? There’s the look,” the other woman piped up, a pleased, triumphant expression gracing her features. 

Sniffing and then clearing his throat uncomfortably, Ian’s gaze flittered between the two women. “If it’s all the same with you, I’d rather not talk about my personal life with two complete strangers.”

“Fine. I’m Kelly and that’s…,” she turned her head towards the other woman, waiting for her to interject. 

“Molly.”

“Molly. So…Kelly, Molly, and you’re…?”

Ian blinked at her, not particularly keen on the direction this was taking. 

Kelly sighed as he continued to remain silent. “Hey…you can either tell us your name, or I can make up one of my own…I’m thinkin’ somethin’ like Fred…or maybe-…”

“Oh, for the love of-…it’s Ian, alright? Satisfied?” he huffed.

“To be honest, I was kinda liking Fred, but I guess Ian‘ll do. So…back to topic—what’s this look we keep seeing? You just break up with someone? Or get dumped, maybe?”

“Nothing so cut and dry,” Ian sighed, hoping these two women would lose their unwelcomed interest.

“Hmm…,” Kelly took another sip and pursed her lips in thought. “Well, as impressive as I am, I’m not psychic, so you’re gonna have to spill. What’s brooding between those sideburns?”

Unable to help himself, Ian softly chuckled at the feisty woman across from him. Though he was most definitely not going to go into a full-length account, he figured that he could give the barest of details, at least enough to satisfy their curiosity.

“I’m trying to find this woman. She an-…”

“What’s her name?” Molly inquired, her eyes now warm and tone sweet.

“Uh…Rose. Her name’s Rose,” he cleared his throat, “Anyway…we spent some time together, and one night, I...uh…I kissed her. Then I sorta…took it back.”

Turning her body to face him directly, Kelly narrowed her eyes. “What do ya mean ya took it back?” 

“I…,” Ian ran a hand through his hair as he looked away, “I pushed her away and told her that it meant nothing. There was a lot of shouting after that—mostly from me—and then I told her I wish I’d never met her.”

Slowly Ian turned his head back to face them. Molly’s eyes held sadness and concern. On the other hand, Kelly’s eyes were alight with fury. Before anyone could blink, she flung her drink at him. When no liquid doused Ian’s face, she furrowed her brow and looked down. 

“Crap…I’m all out,” she grumbled before turning her fiery gaze back to Ian. “That was a real jerk move, Ian. And lemme guess…you’re running away with your tail between your legs. That’s real manly. Aren’t you just a keeper?”

His own ire increasing, Ian narrowed his eyes. “First off, I don’t speak American, so any effort to make actual sense would be greatly appreciated. Second, and most importantly, I am _not_ running away from Rose. I’m running _to_ her.”

Molly squeaked with happiness as she covered her wide grin with her hands. Kelly merely cocked an eyebrow appraisingly, a gesture Ian returned in kind. Judging by the way she held herself, Ian would swear she was attempting to act as defender of wronged womankind. 

Crossing her arms and grunting irritably, Kelly looked at Ian squarely. “Well, I tell what: you better have some kneepads because you’ll be down on them for a while begging for forgiveness.”

A small laugh escaped him before a smile found its way onto his lips. “I’m sure I will, but I couldn’t care less. I’ll beg for as long as necessary…forever, if that’s what it takes.”

****

On Saturday morning, Rose woke up later in the morning than she had anticipated. For the past several days, no matter how much she endeavored otherwise, Rose was barely able to sleep more than four solid hours; even those hours were marred by endless tossing and turning. So the fact that she’d garnered a few precious extra hours of sleep was much welcomed. 

Rolling out of bed, Rose pulled on her hoodie and sleepily ambled down the stairs. As she made her way to the kitchen, she noticed that the carrying voices of her aunt and cousin were missing. Shuffling into the room, Rose saw Jim leaning against the kitchen island, hovering over a newspaper and sipping from a steaming mug. 

On hearing her approach, he looked up and smiled. “Mornin’, Rose. How’d you sleep?”

“Well, I slept, so I can’t really complain otherwise,” she walked over to the coffee pot and poured herself a cup, “Where’s Bev and Sally?”

“Not exactly sure. They left a few hours ago saying something about sales or purses…to be honest, I sorta zoned out. All I know is that my wallet felt lighter when the door closed, so it can’t be too good for my bank account.”

Rose giggled into her mug as she took a sip of the hot liquid, feeling it immediately course through her veins. 

“I have a few business calls to take care of,” he informed her, carrying his mug with him as he walked out of the kitchen. “You need anything before I get started?”

“Nah…I’m fine, thanks,” Rose assured him with a smile. “I’m gonna shower off so I don’t look like death warmed over.”

Chuckling, Jim began walking towards his office. “Let me know if you need anything.”

****

Forty minutes later, Jim sighed as he concluded the first of his many necessary calls. Though he was put out that he was forced to work on Saturday, Jim forced himself to keep a positive mindset, knowing that if he was realistically going to be able to spend time the next few weeks with his family, he’d have to make his current sacrifice. 

He’d just clicked over to his email when the doorbell sounded. Rising from his desk, Jim quickly strode to the foyer and opened the door to see a tall young man waiting. His appearance was slightly disheveled, his suit wrinkled and a faint shadow formed along his jawline. 

“Can I help you?”

“Uh…yes, I hope so,” the man started out nervously. “My name’s Ian Smith and I’m looking for Rose Tyler. Her friend Donna gave me this address. Is she here?”

Jim remained silent as he blinked a few times, seizing up the man before him. Whatever he discerned must have satisfied him, because he stepped back and opened the door wider, allowing Ian to enter. The two of them began walking the hall with Jim leading the way. 

Just then, the woman in question began to walk pass them, another steaming mug in her hand. 

“Hey, Rose,” he called out, causing her to stop and acknowledge him. It somehow escaped his notice that her eyes widened exponentially as she caught sight of the man standing behind him. "Looks like you have a vis-…”

His words ceased as the mug fell from her hands and shattered on the floor beneath her. 


	26. Come Back to Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saturday, November 16, 2013
> 
> Wipe Your Eyes--Maroon 5 and Nightingale--Demi Lovato

_He’s…here…_

Time ceased and all movement stilled as Rose stared, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief, at the man standing before her. Of all the scenarios that she’d conjured over the past few days, this was definitely not one of them. He was supposed to be in London, living a life free from her…taint. He’d made it quite clear she wasn’t what he needed or wanted, so then why was he here and asking for her? How was he even aware that she was here, in New York? 

The questions continued to mount at a rapid pace, but ceased at the sound of her mug shattering against the hardwood floor beneath her. In that instant everything surged into motion, and Rose was brought back to reality. Her subconscious must have sensed her inability to articulate, and therefore took control of her physically, dropping her to her knees so she could pick up the remains of her mug. 

Though momentarily surprised, both men moved towards the kneeling Rose, Jim reaching her first. Ian remained standing close by, suddenly unsure of himself now that he’d finally found Rose.

"Geez, Rose! Are you okay?" Jim asked worriedly as he watched her begin picking up the shards of porcelain.

"What? Oh...yeah, 'm fine. I'm just...clumsy," Rose replied dazedly, maintaining her focus downward. "S-sorry 'bout the m-..."

"Don't even bother worryin’ about," Jim assured her, "It's not like it's the Holy Grail or anything. Just some crappy mug Bev picked up on vacation." Jim could see the slight trembling of her hands, and a protective instinct settled over him. Kneeling down and reaching over, he gently clutched her wrists, halting her efforts. "It's alright, I got this."

"No, no...," she shook her head pitifully, "I made the mess, I sh-..."

"Rose," Jim stopped her, his quiet voice firm yet warm. His tone finally catching her attention, Rose slowly lifted her head, though only enough for their eyes to meet. “Unless you give me a reason why not, I’ve got this.”

Searching his eyes, Rose understood the unspoken meaning in his words. Jim was giving her an out, an opportunity to signal for his aid. Even though they barely knew each other, in that moment, Rose felt strong affection for the man—a man she suddenly had the desire to call ‘uncle.’ Inhaling silently, she nodded in acknowledgment, offering him a nervous smile as he released her wrists. 

“I’m gonna clean this up and then make a few more business calls,” he said, looking between Ian and Rose as he spoke, “There’s a, uh, sunroom at the back of the house. ‘S outta the way. You two can catch up back there, if you want.”

“That…,” Ian cleared his throat of his nerves, “That sounds good—that is if you want to, Rose,” he finished, finally looking at her directly. 

For one fleeting moment their eyes met, and just like every time prior, an indescribable sensation passed between them. The intensity was virtually overwhelming, threatening to consume them then and there. However, the moment was over all too soon as Rose diverted her eyes, nodding her head in approval. 

“Where’d y’say it was, Jim?” Rose asked, her voice quiet and strained with barely withheld emotion. 

Holding the remaining pieces of mug in his hand, Jim straightened before motioning with his head and answering, “It’s just past the living room. Instead of going right at the end of the hallway, turn left. You’ll see it.”

Offering another nervous smile, she wordlessly turned and followed Jim’s directions, not seeing, yet feeling Ian’s presence closely following her. Being near him again…well, it was something for which Rose found it difficult to define. Was it truly possible to put into words something that was so intrinsic? Even if she tried, all attempts would be lacking. 

Both entered the room with Rose keeping her back to Ian. On hearing the click of the door closing, she slowly turned around, keeping her head down and allowing her hair to hide her face. She could feel the weight of Ian’s gaze, however, neither of them spoke, instead allowing silence to persist. Rose had never fully appreciated the meaning of "painfully silent" until that moment. The silence between them was just that–painful. Each second felt like an eternity. Rose knew she couldn't go on like that anymore. Her heart might have been torn asunder, but she didn't have to show it. She would not be defeated. 

Steeling her resolve and securing the guard around her heart, Rose lifted her eyes, and for the first time since his arrival, properly looked at the love of her life. As she took in his appearance, she felt anguish ripple over her. It was more than abundantly clear that he was exhausted–dark circles underscoring his equally dark eyes, a rough shadow covering his jawline, his naturally unruly hair more unkempt than usual. Her limbs twitched with the desire to go to him, to softly thread her fingers through his mane, to trace away the anxiety written on his face with her fingertips.

Before she could further her examination, Ian broke the stalemate and stepped forward.

“Hello,” Ian said in strained softness.

Just hearing the sound of his voice sent a slight shiver down Rose’s spine, and lighted a small spark within her heart. 

Reining in her flutter of emotions, she managed to find her voice.

“Hello.”

A beat passed as they continued to face each other—uncertainty, confusion, and a plethora of other emotions surrounding them. 

“H-how…how are you?” Ian managed to stutter out. As soon as the question fell from his lips, he knew it was a mistake—a stupid, thoughtless mistake. This was immediately confirmed as he saw incredulity and anger flash in her whiskey eyes.

“How am…,” she trailed off in her repetition, turning her head to the side and pursing her lips. After a beat, she turned back to face him, and Ian saw a familiar guard etched into her features. Well, it was familiar to _him_ , having worn such a mask for years. But on Rose…on her it was foreign and unnatural. It was agonizing to witness, and Ian knew he had no one to attribute it to but himself. 

She nervously pushed a strand of blonde hair behind her ear and pulled her sweater taut. It was then that Ian recognized that sweater. Rose had been wearing it when he’d returned to the house that first morning in the future. Had worn it when Olivia took her first steps. She’d clearly favored it, and to be honest, so had he. Seeing it on her again, in light of what he knew now, Ian felt a surge of warmth and tenderness course through his veins.

Taking a silent breath, Rose finally answered his question. “I’m fine.”

Ian’s dark eyes roved over her, studying every aspect with tender concern. 

“No, you’re not,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair, “It’s obvious you’re not.”

There was another flash in her eyes before she arched a brow. “Seriously? _You_ of all people are gonna accuse me of lying? That’s more than just a bit hypocritical, Ian.”

“I deserve that,” Ian agreed, nodding his head. He knew it was true, but it still didn’t dull the bitingness of her tone. 

A sudden grimace appeared on her face and Rose looked down at her wrist briefly. He realized that something about her wrist was causing her pain, and he frowned, taking a step forward.

“What happened to your wrist?”

“S’nothin’,” she answered dismissively. 

Knowing she was withholding from him, Ian altered the expression in his gaze; it became determined, never faltering as he waited for the true answer. He wasn’t going to allow her anger and distance to prevent him from showing his concern. He’d been running from his emotions for far too long, denying they even existed. However, Ian was through with running. He loved the woman before him with every fiber of his being, and nothing would keep him from her.

As his gaze continued to remain steadfast, Rose felt her resolve begin to weaken. Unwilling to permit its full collapse, she decided to answer him and hopefully break the spell his eyes were putting her under. 

“It’s just a bit of a burn. Some of the tea musta splashed on me when I dropped the mug,” she shrugged, turning her eyes aside, “Like I said, s’nothin’.”

No words were spoken, but Rose suddenly felt a shift in the atmosphere. She quickly turned her head to find Ian standing directly in front of her, slightly more than an arm’s length away, causing her heart to beat wildly and the air to leave her lungs. His encroachment into her sphere was wholly unexpected and threw her off kilter. 

Ian’s dark eyes never left hers as he reached out and gently took her wrist into his hand, careful of her injury. Flicking his eyes downward, he examined her wrist, his fingertips ghosting over the small red welt that had formed. Ian raised his eyes and the incredible tenderness and warmth she witnessed nearly brought her to her knees. It took resounding strength for her to remain standing. Rose swallowed harshly, hoping he couldn’t see she was so affected. 

“I hear aloe works wonders on burns,” Ian said with a small smile, continuing to graze his thumb across the softness of her skin. He couldn’t help but remember that first morning with her and how her careful ministrations had left him just as affected as he could see she was at the moment. 

As they maintained contact, Rose struggled to find her voice, managing just above a whisper. “Bev…Bev’s not really the home remedy type. Prefers the chemist.”

Ian faintly nodded, his hand still gently cradling her wrist. Each passing second was a blow to the guard she was so desperately trying to maintain. Any longer and she knew that she would most certainly cave, allowing her heart to be exposed and vulnerable. Mustering every trace of her vanishing strength, Rose pulled her wrist away, wrapping her arms tightly around her chest and taking a few steps back.

“W-what are y’doin’ here, Ian? How did ya even know where I was?”

“I…,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “I wanted to see you.”

Rose snorted in disbelief. “Well, I certainly didn’t think ya came here on holiday.”

“Rose, I-…”

“I asked _why_ you came. And I want the truth, not some bloody drivel y’think sounds good. ‘Cause I seriously doubt you actually _wanted_ to see me. Ya made that _very_ clear the last time we saw each other.”

The anger in her words was blatantly obvious, but her tone was a contradiction—an equal mixture of fire and ice. 

Ian sighed. For all his experience with words, he was always at a loss for them when it came to Rose. “I came because I _needed_ to see you, Rose,” he insisted.

“’Needed to see me,’” she scoffed, “And just what did you _need_ to see me for? What—was there somethin’ ya forgot to shout at me the other night? Some other hateful thing ya left out?”

Each pained word wrapped around his heart and squeezed. He knew he’d hurt her, and now he was beginning to see the depth of that hurt. 

A sudden desperation entered his expression and he took a step towards her. “Rose, I-…”

“Go on…,” she demanded, the heat in her words rising. “Tell me! Tell me again how I’m nothin’ but a mistake!” she charged, her eyes blazing. “Somethin’ ya wish you could back and erase. Go on! Say it again!” 

Running a frustrated hand through his hair, Ian rushed forward, closing the distance between them, and grasped her arms. “I can’t say that, Rose! I _won’t_ say it, not ever!”

Fiercely she wrenched her arms out of his hold, slightly stumbling backwards. “Well, lucky for you, y’don’t have to say it, ‘cause I can hear it. Every day. Over and over. It doesn’t matter what I do, I can’t drown it out!”

Seeing the anguish in Rose’s eyes felt like a knife had pierced his heart. There was no denying he deserved her anger, but it still pained him to experience it. However, all of that was inconsequential; he was never going to stop fighting for her. 

“Neither can I!” Ian admitted. “I can’t forget it. Not just the words, but the look on your face. The sob you held back. All of it, Rose. I remember all of it.”

Rose’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, but she quickly batted them away, turning her head downward to regain her composure. There was a war raging within her as every emotion from the past two weeks fought for dominance. She’d meant what she’d said—every moment with him had been worth the heartache; but did he have to follow her across the Atlantic and torture her like this?

Ian scrubbed his face, sighing. “I remember, and… and it was all a lie.”

At his words, Rose’s head shot up. “What?”

“A lie…,” he stepped forward, “Every single word.”

Rose felt her hands begin to tremble with nervous uncertainty, so she tucked her hair behind her ears, hoping to expel the energy. 

“So…why then?” 

Sighing, Ian roughly raked his fingers through his hair. “Because…I...Rose...," he turned a full circle and growled in frustration, "God, why is this so bloody difficult to get out?"

Rose could only mutely look on. She could see that he was struggling to put something vital into words, but for whatever reason, it was more difficult than anticipated. There was a small spark begging to be kindled, but she just couldn’t yield to it. However, a question that had been haunting her for days came to the forefront, persistently prodding at her. One that weighed on her soul.

_“Wh-…why don’t you want me?”_

Ian halted his frustrated pacing and stared at her, his eyes wide in shock. Seeing his expression alter, Rose felt her stomach plummet to the floor as she realized that she’d given voice to the question. A small part of her being chastised her for sounding so weak. But the greater part, the part that housed her broken heart, couldn’t help but desire to know the answer. 

Ian could hardly process the words that hung in the air. The broken quietness of Rose’s question felt like a dropkick to the stomach. In those five words, Ian finally understood the severity of his actions and the depth of Rose’s heartbreak. If not for his steel resolve to win her back, the guilt would have been crippling. 

“I-I…I didn’t mean to…say that…,” Rose managed to sputter embarrassedly, her cheeks pinking as she diverted her eyes. 

“It was never about not wanting you, Rose…,” Ian answered quietly, “That was the problem.”

Her eyes flitted back to Ian. “I…I don’t understand.”

Closing his eyes briefly, Ian ran his hand through his hair yet again before resuming his pacing. “Neither did I… From the very beginning there was something about you. I don’t have words for what it was or how it happened. All I know is that it was there. I couldn’t understand any of what I felt. Everything I…experienced…it defied logic. And it was bloody maddening…”

As Ian continued to pace, Rose stood quietly and stared confusedly at him. His words were strained, as if he was having difficulty bringing them together. And as of yet, she still didn’t understand his earlier answer. She felt the pull to prod further, to question his meaning; but she sensed the importance of letting it unfold naturally, without force. 

Taking a step back, Rose felt the back of her knees hit something plush. Immediately identifying what it was, her knees grew weaker and she quickly sank onto the waiting chair. 

Out of his periphery Ian could see Rose and how her knees had slightly buckled. More than that, he could sense her patiently waiting for him to speak, feel her eyes make a study of him. He again reproved his inability to just speak without inhibition. He’d been certain that there would be nothing that could hinder him; however, now being in her presence, Ian felt at a loss. He felt as if he would burst from all that he wanted to say, but at the same time, unable to find his voice. 

The last thing Ian wanted to do was give some sort of longwinded speech professing himself. To do so would feel cliché and false. No, there was no need for exaggerations or flowery words; it needed to be _real_.

Suddenly stopping his thoughtful movements, he released a pent up breath and faced Rose. 

“Why did you never tell me that you knew?” he asked, changing gears on the subject. 

She blinked several times, trying to understand his meaning. Unable to do so, she inquired, “What do y’mean? Knew what?”

“Everything. Knew Jack, my aunt Sarah. Knew about…Harry…about…my father,” he finished with a tone just as sorrowful as his eyes. 

Taken aback by the clarification, Rose’s lips parted ever so slightly. She quickly closed them and curled her hair behind her ear. Turning her gaze downward, she began fiddling with the edge of her sleeves.

Several minutes passed as Rose remained silent. 

“Rose?” 

“Because it…it didn’t…,” she trailed off, looking off to the side and sighing. 

Impatience took hold of him. “Didn’t what, Rose?” he prodded in frustration.

She snapped her head back to center, displeased with his tone. “It didn’t matter to me.”

Now it was Ian’s turn to be taken aback. He was uncertain what to make of her answer. “Didn’t matter?” he echoed slowly. 

Rose ran her hands over her hair, frustrated with her poor response. “God, that’s not what I meant,” she grumbled. “I dunno… there just wasn’t a reason to bring it up.”

“How could you know what happened and _not_ want to say anything? It wasn’t as if you found out my favorite color or how I take my coffee. My father was gunned down in front of me by a psychopathic narcissist who just happened to be my friend. A friend I promised to help. Promised and failed. You knew all of that was on my hands, and you didn’t once think to mention it?” Ian asked with a tone of rising incredulity. 

“No, I didn’t,” Rose answered calmly, maintaining eye contact. 

Ian took several steps towards her, hands upturned in confusion. “I don’t understand. How could you know all of that, and it not change anything? Not change how you saw me?” 

“It did!” she countered, her volume rising. “When I found out ‘bout what happened, it changed how I saw you. It made me lo-…,” she halted, fear holding back that particular admission, “It made what I… _felt_ …stronger.”

“How could you feel anything for me? Why weren’t you disgusted? Why didn’t you blame me?” Ian asked confusedly. Even though he’d begun to let go of the stronghold he had on guilt, he still couldn’t understand her reaction.

“Bl-…,” Rose’s eyes widened and brow lifted in disbelief, “Blame you? Why would I ever blame you for what happened?”

“B-because…,” Ian trailed off, his voice hoarse with past and present anguish. “Because _I_ did.” 

The agony laced within those words settled like an anvil on Rose’s heart, causing hot tears to prickle the back of her eyes. Ian turned his gaze from her, and Rose could see how valiantly he was trying to control his emotions. His breathing increased and his form had tensed, clearly a last ditch effort to avoid crumbling. It was then that complete understanding dawned. From the beginning Rose had seen his pain; but it was only now that she felt the entirety of his turmoil, almost as if those three words had transferred every agonizing memory and emotion into her soul. And in that instant, she understood the actions of that night. 

Slowly she rose from her seat, approaching him purposefully, her earlier trepidation no longer a hindrance. Ian suddenly turned his head back to her and she stopped her movement. She was close enough to touch him, but something in her told her to wait, that it wasn’t yet time. But that didn’t mean she would remain silent. 

“When I read about what happened to your dad, it broke my heart. All I could think about was that I wish I coulda been there for you. To hold your hand. And then Jack told me ‘bout the rest, and… and it made me realize just who you are. You’re a man who’s incredibly loyal. Who gives without a thought to himself. Who cares so much, feels so deeply. There was never anythin’ to blame ya for.” 

Without breaking her gaze, she reached out and took hold of his hand.

As Ian heard her answer, felt their fingers intertwine, he felt his heart rise into his throat and his eyes mist. How could he ever have believed that the Rose of this reality and the other were not one and the same? Every tender expression, every loving word, every smile…they were identical. Rose was a constant, no matter the circumstances. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice hovering just above a whisper.

Rose tightened her hold on his hand. “I know…and I forgive you.”

Ian closed his eyes, shaking his head. “I…I don’t deserve you, Rose.”

The quiet conviction of his statement caused her tears to finally fall. “Yes, you do. I…I made my choice, a long time ago, in fact. And there’s…there’s no place I’d rather be than with you. You…you’re worth every smile, every tear, every fight. You’re worth… _everything_. You’re what _I_ deserve. You’re…you’re what I _want_.”

Ian’s eyes flew open after hearing her answer. Seeing the tears silently falling, he lifted his free hand and cupped her face. Slowly he grazed his thumb across her soft cheek, wiping away the glistening tracks. He heard her breath hitch, and for some unknown reason, this gave him that last bit of confidence he needed to fill the growing need within him. 

His eyes never broke their hold with hers as he lowered his head. Just as Ian’s lips were about to descend upon hers, he stopped, hovering just a hair’s breadth away. Rose searched his eyes as saw the reason for his hesitancy. This was him giving her one final chance to change her mind, to back out with no questions asked. 

Rose knew there was only one way to make him understand the truth and absolute resolve of her words. Reaching up ever so slightly, her eyes fluttered shut as her lips found their home. It was slow, gentle—more reassurance than anything else. Slowly, Ian released her hand, wrapping it around her waist. Rose responded by wrapping her hands around the back of his neck, stroking the hair at the nape before threading his fingers through it. 

This action spurred Ian to change the message their kiss was sending. He pulled her closer to him, his hand moving from her cheek to her hair, anchoring him to her. He barely waited for permission before deepening the kiss. This was no longer about reassurance. This was atonement for every harsh word. Manifestation of looks exchanged. This was promises words could never express. Love no longer denied. 

Kiss after kiss transpired, each more consuming than last. Now that all admissions had been made, there was nothing hindering the intensity of their emotions. They were loath to part, fearful of separation, but the necessity for air made the decision for them. Slowly relinquishing each other, they attempted to gain their breath, eyes closed and foreheads resting against each other. 

Realizing that there was one thing he’d yet to admit, Ian found his voice. 

“Rose Tyler… I love you. More than anything…”

Though her eyes remained closed in bliss, a brilliant smile broke slowly spread across her face. 

“And I love you. With everythin’…”

A mirroring smile emerged before Ian placed another gentle kiss to her lips. “Stay with me?”

Rose pulled back just enough to where she could look into his eyes. This wasn’t some fleeting request. This was something deeper, something profound. Rose understood his true meaning, what he was proposing, and she had never been more certain of anything in her life.

“Forever, Cillian. Forever.”


	27. Last Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three Months Later...
> 
> Where the River Bends--Matthew Barber and Keep Breathing (Live)--Ingrid Michaelson

Jillian Fields wasn’t one for self-commiserating; nothing good ever came of it. But in light of the meeting she was due to have, she gave in to the wasteful inclination. Sighing, she pulled off her glasses, resting them on the surface of her desk, and rubbing circles against her temples. 

One of the most significant differences between private practice and her new position as the prison’s lead physician of Psychiatric Services was the level of clientele. The transition from treating more "civilized” cases to stunningly harsh, complex issues had been a trying one; but she was finally coming into her own, and appreciated her new situation. It was the first time in a decade that Jillian felt that she was able to make a difference, to really better others. But in regards to one particular patient, she felt all methods attempted proved ineffective time and time again. What once could have been rectified was now beyond salvageable. It was this determination that motivated her to arrange this meeting, a meeting that would no doubt be less than pleasant for both parties. 

A knock at her door pulled Jillian from the varying thoughts turning about in her mind, and she opened her eyes. 

“Yes?” she called, her way of an invite.

The latch clicked as the door opened, and a stout guard entered. 

“Dr. Fields, you were expectin’ an Ian Smith?”

“Yes,” she nodded, placing her glasses back on, “Show him in, please, Ollie. Thank you.”

The guard nodded in acknowledgement before motioning Ian into the room. With another nod to the doctor, he returned to his post. 

Jillian stood and approached Ian, her hand extended. “Mr. Smith, I’m Jillian Fields. Pleasure to meet you.”

With a tight expression, Ian accepted her proffered hand, barely completing the greeting before releasing her hand. From his ramrod posture, Jillian immediately registered his irritated and displeased manner. 

“Please,” she invited, overlooking his demeanor and gesturing to one of the seats stationed in front of her desk. 

Silently, Ian took a seat while she returned to her own. A sudden flash of nervous uncertainty hit her, and Jillian took a steadying sip from her water glass before speaking again. 

“I appreciate you meeting with me this morning, Mr. Smith.”

Ian looked at her squarely, his entire visage radiating increasing annoyance. “It wasn’t as if I honestly had a choice in the matter, Dr. Fields,” he countered directly, “We both know that. When I cashed in this favor, there were no conditions, no mentions of you. Then two days ago, I get a call, and that all changes. Care to enlighten me as to why the arrangement I originally had suddenly became conditional upon my meeting with you?”

Ian’s anger was evident, Jillian had expected as much. Clearing her throat, she began, “I know that this wasn’t how you intended to go about things, but I assure you that my motives are purely for your wellbeing.”

Ian scoffed, turning his face briefly to the side. “My wellbeing… May I remind you that you’re Harry’s doctor, not mine,” Ian retorted sharply. “I arranged to see _him_. I see no earthly reason why I should be required to have any sort of session with you. Or how doing so could possibly be of any benefit to me.”

“Mr. Smith,” Dr. Fields began again, angling her body towards him, “I can assure you that this is most definitely not a session. I’m in no way attempting to prescribe some sort of treatment or what have you. In fact, the reason I insisted on this meeting was _because_ of your request to see Harry.”

“You’ll have to be more specific, Dr. Fields. I can’t say I understand your meaning.”

Joining her hands, she rested them on her desk and sighed. This was not the way she’d envisioned this little chat going. “As you’ve so _kindly_ stated, I am Harry’s psychiatrist; therefore, I know all the ins and outs of his case and circumstances. Obviously, I’m not at liberty to discuss certain particulars with you; however, I am more than aware of your knowledge about his condition. I-…”

“This is all very well and lovely,” Ian interrupted, clearly done with her near robotic response, “But, again, I fail to see the point of this little visit. You do not need to enlighten _me_ , of all people, about Harry Saxon. I’m quite up to par on that subject. Now, if you d-…”

“What precisely are you hoping to gain from this?” Jillian interrupted. 

“Pardon?”

The young doctor removed her glasses once more, sighing. “Harry’s condition was critically unstable at the time of his incarceration. I know you’re aware of the details regarding Dr. Rassilon’s, shall we say, unor-…”

“Criminal,” Ian corrected sharply, “We’ll call it criminal.”

“As I was saying,” Jillian continued, her irritation at being interrupted yet again clearly conveyed in her tone, “Dr. Rassilon’s handling of Harry’s treatment, specifically his experimentation with certain medications, caused irreparable damage. Despite all efforts, there are no signs of improvement, nor are there likely to be. Management is the best we can do at this point. So, I feel I must ask—this visit you’ve arranged with Harry, what is your endgame? Are you hoping for some sort of reconciliation? For Harry to exhibit remorse? If so, let me caution you that you’ll be sorely disappointed. However…,” she furrowed her brows as her tone hardened, “If this is more of a vendetta, know that I’m aware of what all happened when your brother arranged a similar meeting, and let me emphasize now that another physical altercation will _not_ be tolerated.”

Ian moved to the edge of his seat, looking intently at the woman in front of him. “Jack had his motives and I have mine, both of which are absolutely _none_ of _your_ concern. I’ve been incredibly accommodating with this whole bloody thing you insisted on, but now I’m done with it all. I’ve met my end of the bargain, I suggest you meet yours.” 

Knowing that any further pursual of the subject with the formidable man sitting across from her was unwise, Jillian sighed in acquiescence. She’d merely wanted to provide a measure of assistance, but clearly it was unwanted. And she knew enough of Ian Smith’s reputation to know that he wasn’t a man with whom to trifle. To be completely honest, a large part of her couldn’t fault him his anger. Knowing the particulars, the horrific tragedy he’d been in the heart of, anger was more than justified. 

Resigned, Jillian picked up the phone and dialed three digits. There was the briefest of pauses before she spoke. 

“Yes, this is Dr. Fields. I need you to bring ‘round Harry Saxon. Identification: S112009,” pausing, she lifted her eyes to meet Ian’s, “He has a visitor…”

****

The lift doors parted with the sound of a ding, and Rose stepped out, her usual carriers weighing down her arms. As she made her way to the employee lounge, she noticed a few additional smiles sent in her direction. After three months she still couldn’t help the slight blush that hinted her cheeks when she received such acknowledgement; it invariably led her thoughts to all the incredible things yet to come. 

Finally reaching the lounge door, Rose used her hip to push it open and then walked to the usual table for setup. She’d just finished laying out the last of the goods when an all too familiar voice broke the silence. 

“Finally! It’s ‘bout time you showed up. Thought you’d never get here.”

Rolling her eyes, Rose turned around to see Jack’s teasing smile. “Oh please! I’ll have you know I’m a full…,” she trailed off as she checked the clock on her mobile, “Thirteen minutes early, ta! So y’can button it, ya bleedin’ drama queen.”

Upping the dramatics, Jack clutched at his heart. “Ah, Rosie…you wound me!”

Rose chuckled at his display, swatting him with her cloth as she passed by him. “You’re so full of it, it’s amazing y’don’t burst.”

Finally dropping the act, Jack snorted and began his raid on the delivery. “This is all free now, yeah?” he asked, popping a tiny scone into his mouth.

“Try that again, mate,” Rose snorted as she packed up her things. 

“Oh c’mon,” he whined, “What’s the point of having a sister-in-law if ya don’t get any perks?”

“Oi!” Rose squawked, “First off, that’s not official yet. And second, isn’t my dazzling wit enough of a perk for ya?”

“Eh,” he shrugged, grinning. “You’re not really my type.”

Rose couldn’t help but give a high-pitched chortle. “What d’ya mean type? I’m breathing, yeah?”

Jack cocked an eyebrow as he recognized the familiar opinion. “You’ve been gossiping with Sarah Jane again, haven’t you?” 

“You call it gossiping, I call it bonding. Either way, it’s very entertaining,” she smirked. 

“Well, next time you two get together to ‘ _bond_ ,’ you can tell her I’ve narrowed the playing field a considerable bit.”

Stopping her movements, Rose turned around and rested on one of the tables, crossing her arms. “Oh, really now?” she questioned teasingly, her brow raised. “Care to tell?”

A brilliant grin suddenly broke out, lighting up his features. “Mainly focusing on redheaded restaurant owners. Preferably one with questionable anger-management issues. Ya know any?”

Jack continued to grin wildly, expecting a cheeky reply, a “go get her,” something. However, Jack was met with none of that. Instead, Rose was motionless before him, her expression unreadable. He could feel the corners of his mouth falter as she continued to mutely blink at him. His lips parted as they began to ask a question but were halted as Rose broke her standstill, pushing off the table and walking the few steps to him.

“I’m only gonna say this once, so listen well, Jack. Donna Noble is my oldest friend, the closest thing I’ve ever had to a sister. And we’ve been through more than you know. Everythin’ from scraped knees to jail…”

The mention of jail sent Jack’s brows skyward. Rose rolled her eyes. 

“Long story, and so not the time. Now, focus. I want you to think very long and hard about this ‘playin’ field’ of yours. ‘Cause if you do this and you’re not completely serious, if this is just some passing fancy, and you end up hurting her, I will slowly and painfully dispose of you. And I have a bloody brilliant fiancé who’ll make sure I get off scot-free. Understand?”

Until that moment, Jack had seen Rose as a warm, bubbly person. Loving. Kind. But now, he finally saw the ferocity and unswerving loyalty within her, and he realized an undeniable truth—do _not_ mess with Rose Tyler. 

Answering her with a nod, Rose smiled and patted his cheek. “There’s a good boy.” She turned back around and reached for her carriers. 

“So, uh…,” Jack cleared his throat, snapping himself out of his slightly fearful daze, “Speaking of my brother…well, _mentioning_ my brother, have you talked to him?”

She shook her head. “Not since yesterday. Why?”

“I’ve been trying to reach him, but no luck. He must already be at the prison, signal’s crap there.”

Rose felt her ears perk up. When they had spoken last night, Ian had mentioned that he had business to take care of, but something in Jack’s tone struck her. Rose sensed that there was something she was missing. “Somethin’ the matter?”

“Yeah. He’s supposed to meet some doc before they’ll let him see Harry. Real nice of Garrett to throw that curveball at the last minute. Never did get a clear reason for that sudden change, but I got the feeling that doctor had s-…”

“Sorry, Jack, but I just realized I need to be somewhere and I’m late. Best be off,” Rose broke in hurriedly, pecking his cheek. “I’ll talk to you later, yeah?” 

Flashing him a quick smile, Rose turned on her heel and rushed towards the lift. She knew her abrupt exit would confuse Jack, and that her excuse, while plausible, was poor at best. However, at the moment, she couldn’t care less. 

As she hurriedly made her way outside and into her car, she could feel a slow heat make its way through her veins. Business, Ian had said. That was all. Never once did he mention anything about seeing Harry. Not one bloody word. How could Ian keep that from her, act like nothing important was happening? Well…there was no way Rose was going to take that lying down. Not a chance. 

So blinded by a mixture of anger and annoyance, Rose didn’t register the drive to the prison until she suddenly found herself parked in front of it. Grabbing her purse, she threw open her door, and determinedly made her way to the massive building. She had no plan, no idea how she’d maneuver her way into building; but none of that mattered. She was Rose Tyler, and she’d set her mind to something. God help the poor soul stupid enough to try and stop her. 

****

_“Yes, this is Dr. Fields. I need you to bring ‘round Harry Saxon. Identification: S112009,” pausing, she lifted her eyes to meet Ian’s, “He has a visitor…”_

When Dr. Fields didn’t immediately return the receiver to the cradle, Ian furrowed his brow, watching the expression on her face change as the individual on the other end spoke. 

“Alright…I see. I wasn’t aware of that, but yes…show her in as well.” With that, she replaced the receiver and turned her attention back to Ian, releasing a silent breath.

“The guards are in the middle of a cell sweep, so it’ll be several minutes before they bring Harry out. But I’ll show you to the one of the holding rooms.” Jillian stood and moved towards the door, Ian following her lead. She had just turned the knob and when she said, “Also, I apologize for any confusion this meeting caused. I didn’t realize you weren’t the only one coming.”

He’d just walked through the doorframe when Ian stopped mid-step and turned his head sharply to look at her. The statement, though confusing, struck a chord within him, eliciting a sudden uneasiness. “I’m sorry?”

Dr. Fields didn’t get a chance to respond, as the sound of approaching footsteps caught Ian’s attention and he saw the answer to his question—Rose being escorted by another burly guard. Their eyes met, and Ian could see the storm brewing in those dark, whiskey orbs.

Releasing a slow breath, Ian began the approach towards his fiancé. The sound of a pager halted Jillian’s following him. Checking the small device, she frowned and dropped her shoulders as she sighed. 

“Sorry. I have to answer this. Mac, would you please show these two the way?”

“’Course, ma’am,” the guard acknowledged, and Jillian disappeared back into her office. 

Rose began walking, meeting Ian halfway. Her entire body was radiating anger, her features tight as she controlled her emotions. 

“Rose…,” Ian began.

She looked back at the guard, cutting Ian off. “Could we have just a mo’?”

Mac accommodated by stepping back a short distance, enough to give them some privacy, yet still maintaining his authoritative presence. 

Rose turned her head around and met Ian’s gaze. Ian opened his mouth to speak once again, but was immediately halted by Rose. 

“Oh, the words you an’ me are gonna have when we get outta here,” she said lowly, angrily.

“Rose, I-…”

“How could ya not tell me ‘bout comin’ here?”

“Ro-…”

“This isn’t somethin’ ya just leave out.”

“Rose,” Ian said firmly, “Stop interrupting me long enough to let me explain. Please.”

Closing her eyes, Rose took a slow, steadying breath. Nothing good was going to happen if she lost her cool. Finding her calm, she opened her eyes again.

“M’kay. G’on…make it good.”

Ian released a rugged breath and tugged nervously on his ear. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you trying to come. Obviously that didn’t go as planned, seeing as you’re standing in front of me.”

“You think I’m angry I didn’t get an invite? Ian…,” Rose ran a hand through her hair and blew out a harsh breath, “I’m not angry that you didn’t ask me to come with you, I’m angry because you kept the truth from me.”

She saw his mouth open to speak, but she stifled his coming refutation. “Yeah, I know. Technically, you didn’t lie; but that doesn’t mean you told me the truth. With everythin’ we’ve been through, the last thing we need is to keep things from each other. Especially something like this.”

“Rose, you don’t understand what Harry’s like! Everything I’ve told you doesn’t even come close to doing him justice. I didn’t want you around that. Around him.”

“I didn’t come for him, Cillian,” Rose said firmly. Maintaining her gaze, she reached out and grabbed his hand, interlinking their fingers tightly. “I came for _you_.”

Feeling his irritation and anger mount, Ian removed his hand from Rose’s grasp, using it to repeatedly rake his hair. There was more to his averseness than he was letting on; but he wasn’t prepared to reveal it…to relive it. Instead, he allowed the gruffer part of his nature to take the reins at that moment.

“Well, as you can see, I’m alr-…”

“I swear to God, Ian,” Rose growled lowly, “Don’t you dare finish that bloody word!”

“Ro-…”

“Is there a problem here?” the guard broke in, his sudden proximity surprising them both. In actuality, it shouldn’t have been that much of a surprise, considering they were a few choice words away from basically having a domestic in the middle of the hallway. 

Ian and Rose turned their gaze away from the guard and to each other once more. Both remained steadfast, unyielding in their stance, their tempers simmering. Rose arched a brow questioningly, almost challengingly. Her passion was something that always captivated him, but in that moment, Ian found it infuriating. Why couldn’t she just let this go?

Blowing out a harsh breath, Ian vigorously rubbed the back of his neck before throwing his hands up in resignation. “’Course not.”

The guard, Mac, gave them both a slow once over; his trained eye taking in every detail of the two. Satisfied with his appraisal, he nodded. “Right, then. They just called over the comm that they’re bringin’ ‘im in. Time to move,” he instructed, leading the way down the hall to the designated meeting place. 

There was a palpable tension between Ian and Rose as they took their seats. Though both felt justified in their earlier behavior, neither was pleased with the resulting strain between them. Despite that, it in no way felt like the right time to mend it. 

Silence persisted as both waited with bated breath for the Past to make its appearance, neither certain of what was in store. Suddenly, the agonizing wait was over, and the metal door creaked open, heralding the arrival of Harry Saxon.

The unkempt man emerged through, his shackles clanging as he shuffled. His dark, soulless eyes latched onto their position, and a slow grin spread up his cheek. The hefty guard escorting him led him to the metal table, securing his chains to the cold surface, and then taking his station beside Mac.

Harry volleyed his gaze between Ian and Rose, his once hollow eyes now dancing with glee. Bouncing a bit, he scooted forward, eagerly resting his hands on the dull, frigid metal. 

“Hello, old friend. Feels like years since we’ve met up. But here you are, and you’ve even brought me a present,” he motioned his head towards Rose, his grin widening, “Wish I’d known, I didn’t get you anything.”

Rose could sense the tension instantly surge into Ian’s body and she swiftly moved her hand, grasping his tightly and locking their fingers under the table. The moment their hands met, she felt Ian relax ever so slightly, gently squeezing her hand and ghosting his thumb over her skin. The feeling of Rose’s hand within his, the strength she imparted, elicited the faintest of smiles in relief.

Harry watched them throughout the silent exchange, cocking his head inquisitively. After a brief moment, he turned his focus to Rose, studying her admiringly. 

“You really outdid yourself, Ian, bringing me such a pretty bird.” 

Something foreign lit up his eyes, and his gaze, though still analytical, now became somewhat predatory. Rose felt a fiery fury burn in her core as Harry kept his eyes trained on her. There was no denying he was menacing, possible sadistic; nor was there any denying that he unsettled her. But what infuriated Rose was that Harry was using her to bait Ian, to fan his anger, to _hurt_ him. She could feel the instinctual need to defend course through her.

Suddenly, Harry’s eyes widened before lighting up once again with glee. “Ooh…I was mistaken. Not a bird. No, there’s something about you…your eyes. They’re fierce…protective. Sorta remind me of a wolf…what do you think, Ian? Doesn’t she have something of the wolf about her?”

Whatever tension had left Ian’s body came rushing back as Harry continued to study Rose almost leeringly. 

“Leave her alone,” he ordered lowly, evenly. 

Harry chuckled causing Ian to jerk forward, but Rose quickly put her free hand on his arm, calming him enough to keep his temper in check. Harry’s eyes widened as he saw the glinting ring on Rose’s finger, and his smile grew exponentially. 

“Now this… _this_ is interesting. Quite an unexpected development. Appears you didn’t get me a present after all. She’s _your_ toy. Isn’t that lovely! Tell me, sweetheart, has our boy here mentioned me? We used to be great friends, y’know.”

Ian felt his disgust grow as Harry continued to fixate on Rose. It just reminded him of why he didn’t want Rose there in the first place. “I said leav-…”

Harry hurled his chained hands down on the table, the harsh sound of clanging metal halting Ian’s words. 

“I’m talking to _her_!” he shouted, causing the guards to instinctually start forward. Seeing that Harry was not going to attempt anything, they stayed their post but kept on alert, quite familiar with the man’s antics. 

Though Ian detested the man facing him and the fact that he was eerily taken with Rose, he refused to allow it to divert him from his purpose. He was about to challenge Harry once again, but was stopped by the gentle squeeze from Rose’s hand. Pulling his eyes away from Harry’s despised face, Ian turned to see Rose looking up at him, her large eyes warm and comforting; in them he found a steadfast pillar of strength, and a tentative calm came over him.

A sigh from Harry brought both Rose and Ian to attention. 

“Now, pet, where were we? Oh yes…we were talking about me and your husband-to-be. Did he ever tell you ‘bout the last time we saw each other? It was quite eventful.”

Harry waited for a response, but was sorely disappointed as Rose merely stared at him. 

“Come now. You’re not even the least bit curious? I should think you’d want to know everything you could about the man you’re going to latch yourself to. Don’t you want to know what sort of man he is? The things he’s done, the lies he’s told?”

Every fiber of Rose’s being was begging for permission to tear into the waste of life speaking to her. His words fanned her fiery anger, and she wanted nothing more than to put him in his place. To take his vile intent and antagonistic words and feed them back to him. Her limbs practically itched with such desire, but she exercised valiant restraint, remembering that she was there for one reason and one reason alone—Ian. This meeting wasn’t her doing, it was his; and whatever his reasons, Rose was determined to stand by him, and not allow her own emotions to run rampant. 

Her continued silence began to grate against Harry’s nerves, and his eyes narrowed in irritation. 

“You’re starting to make me angry…I’m not very nice when I’m angry. That’s what they tell me, anyhow…well, at least the lot in this place say so; but in here,” he pointed at his temple, “they seem to be quite fond of me. But you…you don’t like me much, do you, Wolf?”

_I loathe you as I’ve never loathed anyone in my life…_

It was true. Rose had never had such disgust for an individual in her life. Yet, despite that, she remained silent, her face impassive. She refused to lose control.

Down once more came Harry’s fists onto table. “Speak!” 

“Enough, Harry!” Ian demanded. “Enough of this. This has absolutely nothing to do with her. _Nothing_. So I’ll tell you one last time: Leave. Her. Alone.”

There was a flash of anger in Harry’s eyes before he finally turned his attention to Ian, shrugging his shoulders. “No matter. She was starting to bore me, anyway. So, Ian…is this the part of the visit where we pull out old photos and relive the glory days? I do so love a good round of nostalgia.”

Ian took a slow, steadying breath. The decision to go there had not been an easy one; he’d wrestled with emotions both old and new, but ultimately came to the conclusion that it had to be done. If he was to truly move forward, Ian had to face one last demon. 

“This isn’t some sort of friendly reunion, and you know it. Whatever sentiment was between us ended when you fired that gun.”

“Remember that, do ya?” Harry smirked, an unearthly gleam in his eye.

Closing his eyes, Ian blew out a harsh breath through his nostrils, gritting his teeth. He would not surrender to the anger threatening to overwhelm him. He was stronger than that. 

“I’ll always remember that. There’s no way I could ever forget it. But…but, I’m done holding onto it.”

Blinking, Harry then squinted in confusion. “What?”

“I said I’m done. Every single day for six years I’ve carried this bloody guilt, guilt about you…about Lucy…about Dad. It was all I saw, no matter where I looked. I couldn’t escape it, so I embraced it…”

Ian paused to take another soothing breath, memories of those years flitting past his mind as he did so. 

“But I finally realized that…that it’s not mine to carry. It’s _yours_. It’s always been yours.” 

For the first time in six years, Ian said those words with complete conviction, never once wavering. And it felt…liberating.

“No…no, it’s not!” Harry seethed insistently. “You were supposed to make them stop. You _promised_ me that they would _STOP_!” he screamed, pounding his head. “It’s _your_ fault…you lied to me!”

“I tried,” Ian wearily replied, “I honestly tried, Harry. But…there was nothing I could do. No matter how badly I wanted to. If I could go back and change it, I would, but I can’t. I just…can’t.”

Harry continued to rile up, his nostrils flaring as he raked his chained hands through his hair. His eyes darted around frantically, as if searching for something to say, but coming up empty. 

Ian knew it was time to end things once and for all. “I’ll always be sorry that things didn’t go differently, but I’m done carrying your guilt. I’m giving it back. It’s not mine and I don’t want it anymore.”

Harry began to shake his head violently. “No…no...not mine. It’s yours. Yours! Never mine,” he insisted, his eyes wide and wild. 

There was nothing more to say on the matter, no reason left to stay. Not bothering to give a useless refute, Ian sighed one last time before standing, Rose following suit. He turned to the guards.

“We’re ready to go.”

Their guard from before nodded and began to escort them out. Becoming irate, Harry attempted to stand, but his chains prevented him. The other guard immediately appeared at his side, gripping his shoulder and firmly keeping him seated.

“Ian!” Harry screamed at the top of his lungs, desperately turning from side to side in an effort to catch sight of his former friend. “Ian!”

No matter how loud his cries, no matter how much he struggled, it was all for naught. For the last time, the door closed firmly behind Ian and Rose, neither one ever looking back.

****

The walk to Rose’s car was filled with tense silence. Though they had yet to speak to each other, their hands had remained intertwined, neither one loosening their grip. Both had much to say, but neither knew where to begin. 

When they reached Rose’s car, there was a significant hesitation before Rose released his hand and fiddled around in her purse for her keys. 

“Where you off to now?” Ian asked quietly, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Uh, back home, I s’pose. The flat’s a mess with all of Martha’s wedding stuff. I’ll probably straighten up and then watch some telly,” she answered, keeping her head down as she twisted and turned her key in her hands. 

Ian nodded in acknowledgement. “Right…We’ll talk later?”

“M’kay,” Rose agreed, unlocking the car and opening the door. Ian had just turned to leave when Rose suddenly shut the door. “No,” she said, leaning against the car and running a hand through her hair, “We’ll talk now.”

Ian turned back around to face her but stayed in place. Rose crossed her arms, lifting a hand and rubbing her forehead. 

“Please explain to me what you were thinking. I really want to understand.”

“What part do you want me to explain?”

“Mostly the part where you decided to go see the man who murdered your father and not breathe a word of it to me.”

“Rose,” Ian sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Let’s be honest, we both know you would’ve wanted to come with me, and I couldn’t have that.”

“Of course I’d want to come with you, Cillian!” Rose said, pushing off the car. “Why wouldn’t I? I love you and this is a huge deal. I wouldn’t have you go it alone. But I wouldn’t have forced you to bring me, and you know that.”

“I didn’t want to risk it, Rose!” Ian said sharply, running a hand through his hair in aggravation. “I didn’t want Harry anywhere near you. I couldn’t…,” he trailed off, walking towards her and leaning his back against the car. He sighed wearily, scrubbing his face. 

Rose sidled up next to him, their shoulders touching. “What aren’t you tellin’ me?” she asked softly. 

Ian closed his eyes briefly, no longer seeing the need to keep his reasons to himself. “I…I saw him kill you, Rose. That night you found me in the park…when I woke up in your flat gasping for air…it was because he shot you. The bullet was supposed to hit me, but I looked down and you were in my arms, cold and pale. There was blood all over me. Y-you…,” Ian’s voice broke with emotion as he recalled the vivid nightmare, “You died in my arms, Rose. He took you from me. I know it was just a nightmare, but the thought of you in the same room with him, it m-…”

His words ended abruptly as Rose pulled him close and fiercely captured his lips with her own, cupping her soft hands around his face. The effect was instantaneous as Ian felt his fears calm with each caress of her lips. 

All too soon, she pulled back. She held his gaze, their breaths mingling, her fingertips grazing his cheeks. 

“No one is ever gonna take me from you, understand? No one.”

“But-…”

“No,” she shook her head, “No buts. Whatever happens, no matter what, nothing and no one will ever keep me from you.”

Ian continued to hold her gaze, nearly losing himself in the depth of emotion they contained. He knew that the world was full of uncertainty, twist and turns in all directions. But if Ian believed in one thing, he believed in her. She’d promised him forever, and neither of them would settle for less.

“You have no idea how much I love you.”

Rose grinned widely at his declaration. “If it’s even half as much as I love you, then we’re gonna be bloody brilliant together, I can tell ya that right now.”

Ian captured her lips in another kiss, this one soft and languid. When he pulled away, a mirroring grin emerged from his own lips.

“Oh I have no doubt about it, Rose Tyler. No doubt at all.”


	28. Epilogue: Finding Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saturday, September 8, 2018
> 
> We have finally reached the end. I want to thank each and every one of you for your dedication and interest. It has truly been my honor to write for you over this past year. I never in my wildest imagination would have expected such kindness and interest. I can never express my unending gratitude. I would like to send a special thank you to the three incredible girlies who I am privileged to know. Miss Em, I hope you enjoy my tribute to you. Once more, thank you all! ♥∞
> 
> Never Stop--Safetysuit  
> 

“And…done,” Rose said to the empty room, smoothing out the wrinkles on the duvet before raising upright and looking around her. “’Bout bloody time, too,” she grumbled, wiping her glistening brow with the back of her hand and sighing tiredly. 

No doubt about it, setting up house was highly overrated—the movers, boxes, crumpled newspapers, the endless up and down on the stairs. Finally, after drowning in a sea of cardboard for ages, the last item had been placed in its perfect spot, and now it was officially…home. _Their_ home. 

It hadn’t been the easiest of tasks, what with Rose being eight and a half months pregnant and Ian desperately trying to finish the majority of his caseload before the baby arrived. Their family had helped with the major parts, transferring furniture, unloading boxes and the like; but it was the little things that were the most important to Rose and Ian. Things such as the perfect place for each photo—photos like the one Ian insisted on having on his nightstand. 

Shuffling over to his side of the bed, Rose lifted the frame and stared reminiscently at the photo, her fingers ghosting over the image. She loved that picture. It was taken on their last holiday, almost a year ago. She was clad in her red bikini (Ian’s favorite) and laughing in ecstatic happiness, Ian grabbing her from behind, his arms wrapped tightly around her middle. Warm tears came up into her eyes as she played that scene over in her mind. It was one of the happiest moments of her life because that was the day Rose finally told Ian she was pregnant. She’d known for three days before that picture was taken, having confirmed her suspicions in the loo of a petrol station on the day of their arrival; but Rose had been so nervous, so uncertain of the right method or words to break the news to him that she had kept silent.

Closing her eyes, Rose could still feel the warm sand between her toes and the ocean breeze through her hair as she stood back a ways from their spot on the beach, watching as Ian helped Tony aimlessly pile sand into tiny mounds while her mum unpacked lunch. The adoring look in Ian’s eyes as he helped her little brother put to rest her lingering fears. 

With nothing holding her back, she’d walked over to them, lowering herself onto the sand beside her husband. Ian immediately turned to look at her, his brilliant grin shining as brightly as the noonday sun. Mirroring his expression, Rose leaned forward and placed a long, still chaste kiss on his lips before breaking away just enough to move her lips to his ear and whisper those two life-changing words. Ian’s eyes had widened in shock, his motions frozen as he processed her words. Suddenly gripped by a giddy impulse, Rose had giggled at him and took off towards the water. It was by pure happenstance that her dad had taken the photo at that moment, but it perfectly captured Ian’s reaction, the sheer elation and love that had radiated off of him as he laughingly pulled her into his arms. 

A brilliant smile crept across her lips as her free hand stroked her swollen stomach before putting the frame back in its proper place. Taking another look around the room, Rose sighed in satisfaction at the end result of her work. Feeling another strong bout of hunger take over, she decided to go downstairs and make herself a late third breakfast. Walking into the hallway, her eyes caught sight of the nursery and she walked over to the door, tracing her fingertips over the name etched on the door. A flutter of movement broke her out of her reverie, and she smiled, looking down.

“Just a few more weeks, sweet pea,” Rose said, patting her belly in assurance. 

Her hunger pains increased, demanding immediate attention, and Rose descend the stairs. She began raiding the cabinets, searching for anything to satisfy her growling stomach. Unfortunately, they hadn’t been able to make a proper trip to the shops, mostly living on takeaway during the move. Much to her relief, Rose found a half-eaten jar of Nutella. With an excited squeal, she threw off the lid, and spooned a mass of the velvety goodness into her mouth. 

Now that she had a form of sustenance in her, Rose was able to think more clearly. With everything finally in order, it was the perfect time for her and Ian to have a true and proper dinner in their new home. Taking one more massive bite of her ‘meal,’ Rose reluctantly put aside her jar and went to retrieve her keys. However, when she reached the door, she was surprised to see that they were missing from the bowl. Instead, there was a small note waiting patiently. 

Narrowing her eyes, she grabbed it in hand, growling as she read the missive. 

_I meant what I said._

Growling again in frustration, Rose hurried back into the kitchen, ignoring the flicker of pain in her back, and pulled open the jar where they kept the spares. Instead of metal, her fingers latched onto paper once again. 

_Yes, I took these too._

“Bloody git!” Rose shouted to the emptiness before jerking her mobile from its customary pocket. Her fingers furiously swept over the screen, finding their intended selection. There were only two rings before the call was answered.

_“Hello?”_

“Your nephew is a bloody prat, y’know that?” 

_“It’s been mentioned once or twice. Why? What’s happened this time?”_

“He took my bloody car keys!”

_“Did he have a reason to?”_

“Not a good one.”

_“Well, what was it?”_

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you that you’re not s’posed to argue with a pregnant woman?”

 _“Rose…,”_ Sarah Jane drawled questioningly.

She sighed with dramatic exasperation. “He said it’s too close to the birth an’ he wants me to take it easy.”

There was a short pause before Sarah Jane spoke again. _“Why do I feel as if you’re leaving out an important tidbit?”_

“Fine,” Rose groaned, rolling her eyes, “I may have tried sneaking off last night.”

 _“Rose!”_ Sarah Jane admonished.

“Wha’?”

_“What was so bleedin’ important that required you to sneak off?”_

“Fish sticks and custard,” Rose answered in complete seriousness. 

_“Fish sticks…and custard,”_ Sarah Jane repeated slowly, deciding that Rose had finally been consumed by pregnancy madness _. “That’s hardly worth going through trouble for.”_

“Sarah Jane, I’m eight an’ a half months pregnant. _All_ food is worth the trouble. For Heaven’s sake, I just inhaled a jar of Nutella not ten minutes ago. But I think you’re missin’ what’s really important, which is your nephew is being a daft prat. I’m basically under house arrest, it’s a wonder he doesn’t put a bleedin’ collar on me!”

_“Alright, even **you** can admit that was hormonally irrational.”_

Rose huffed and crossed her arm over her chest. “Fine…maybe…just a bit,” she grumbled, rolling her eyes skyward. “But I think you’re missin’ the point here, an’ that’s that I’ve got things to do, and I’m trapped in this bleedin’ house.”

 _“You’re hardly trapped, love,”_ Sarah Jane assured her, a smile evident in her words. _“You have a load of people willing to take you where you need to go, one of whom is currently on the phone with you. So, give me twenty minutes, and I’ll come round. Alright?”_

“Alright. Thanks, Sarah Jane.”

_“Of course, dear. See you in a bit.”_

****

“It’s rather a madhouse in here, isn’t it?” Sarah Jane said, observing the swarm of people within the grocery. 

When no response came from Rose, Sarah Jane turned to look at her, frowning when her eyes rested on her niece. Rose’s features were twisted in a slight grimace as she rested her hand to her lower back, taking several silent breaths. Sarah Jane worriedly stepped closer towards her, touching her shoulder gently.

“Rose… Are you alright, sweetheart?”

The feel of Sarah Jane’s hand snapped Rose out of her daze. She turned her eyes upward, forcing a smile. 

“’Course. Just a bit of a backache, s’all,” she assured her, “Been happening all morning. I can’t wait till I’m able to walk around without feelin’ like a bleedin’ whale. I’m so over the waddling.”

Raising a brow, Sarah Jane eyed her questioningly. Rose saw the doubt written on her face and rolled her eyes good-naturedly, waving her hand dismissively. “Stop worrying, Sarah Jane. I’m pregnant; a backache isn’t all that surprising.”

Satisfyingly appeased, Sarah Jane sighed. “Alright, I suppose I’m a tad anxious. It won’t be long now, practically any day.”

“Two weeks, four days. Which is another reason ya shouldn’t worry. There’s still time,” Rose insisted, turning her attention back to the shelves. 

Cocking an eyebrow, Sarah Jane smirked. “Babies have been known to make up their own minds about their arrival time. And seeing as this is yours and Ian’s child, we know she’s bound to be a stubborn little one. I’m certain she’ll make her entrance when _she_ sees fit.”

Rose couldn’t help but snort in amusement. “You may be right, but I still say it’s not time.” She reached to pluck another item off the shelf and instantly felt another pain, this one slightly more intense than previously. Stubbornly she pushed the pain aside. 

_Just a backache…_

“Do you have much more to get? You’re looking a bit knackered.”

“Just one more thing, and then I’ll be ready.”

“In that case, I’ll bring round the car. I had to park further than I’d anticipated.”

“Alright, I’ll meet you outside in a few,” Rose assured her, sending a grateful smile Sarah Jane’s way as she left the shop. 

True to her word, Rose gathered one last item before heading to the register. The queue was rather long and Rose found herself becoming anxious as she waited. The pain in her back persisted, and a suspicion was whittling at the back of her mind. However, Rose was continuing to stubbornly ignore it. 

“It’s your turn, pay attention,” the tailor-suited man behind her snapped.

Rose turned and glared at him. He’d been incredibly irritating, talking incessantly on his mobile about the most inane topics. To have him rudely bark at her was just icing to the incredibly tasteless cake. But it was in fact her turn, so she moved forward, placing her items on the conveyor while the clerk scanned them. 

“£37.81,” the clerk informed her.

Reaching into her purse for her bank card, Rose immediately halted as an intense pain rippled from her back to her abdomen, nearly taking her breath away. 

“Oi, some of us have important things to do, and don’t have time to wait around,” the priggish man snapped again.

Rose arched upward, ready to give him what for, but was again stopped by another pain, this one slightly above a tinge but still unexpected.

“Y’alright, miss?” the clerk asked worriedly.

Taking a breath, Rose managed to nod her head. “Mm-hmm.”

“A-are ya sure? Y’don’t look so good,” the young man stuttered, clearly unconvinced.

Rose opened her mouth to reply, but stopped when she felt a gentle hand on upper back. Looking up, she saw a young brunette in scrubs standing beside her. 

“I think you’re feeling a bit more than you’re letting on, yeah? How far gone are you?” the stranger inquired, her hand still comforting Rose’s back.

“Nearly nine months, but I’m honestly fine,” Rose protested weekly, “It’s just a ba-…”

The words were cut off as another pain surged, and Rose gasped, dropping her purse and grabbing onto the railing in front of her, her knuckles white while the pain rippled through her.

The man behind her huffed irritably. “Can’t you take tha-…”

“Oi, bugger off!” the brunette snapped, whirling her head around and glaring furiously, “She’s in labor, you wanker! So, one more word and they’ll have to surgically remove that mobile from your bloody throat, understood?”

The man gaped at her outburst, but remained silent. 

“No,” Rose insisted breathlessly, shaking her head, “I can’t be in labor. It’s too soon. There’s still two weeks.”

“Sorry to break it to you, sweetie, but too soon or not, you _are_ in labor,” the brunette said with a soft smile. “Trust me, I’m a nurse. I know labor when I see it.”

A sudden fear and uncertainty violently gripped Rose as she finally accepted the confirmation of what she had been subconsciously suspecting for hours. 

“We need to get you to hospital. Did you drive yourself?”

Rose shook her head. “No, my…my…,” Rose verbally stumbled, the wave of emotions making it difficult for her to concentrate, “Sarah Jane drove. She’s outside waitin’ for me.”

The young nurse nodded, moving her arm to Rose’s waist and walking towards the exit, abandoning both of their groceries in the middle of the floor. “Right, then, let’s get you to the car. I’ll ride with you, if that’s alright?”

Merely nodding, Rose allowed herself to be led to the waiting Sarah Jane. The brunette opened the back door and helped her in, taking a seat beside her. Sarah Jane caught sight of them in the mirror and hurriedly turned around to view them properly. 

“What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is that you were bloody right,” Rose groaned. “Seems she made her mind to show up today.”

Sarah Jane’s jaw slacked before she burst into an excited grin. Suddenly registering an unfamiliar presence, she turned her attention to the young brunette. 

“And you are?”

“Name’s Emily,” the nurse introduced herself before motioning with her head to a groaning Rose, “Now, I suggest you drive…quickly.”

****

Glancing at his mobile for at least the tenth time, Ian was surprised that he still had not heard from Rose. He was almost certain that by now she had discovered he had confiscated her keys, and he’d been expecting some sort of irate communication. It really had been for her good. He’d practically begged her to see reason, but Rose, as usual, was being incredibly stubbornly. When he’d caught her trying to sneak off close to midnight, Rose had tried to slyly persuade him to let her go, resorting to artfully tracing patterns against his chest and looking up at him through her dark lashes. He’d nearly caved till he remembered that she’d employed that exact technique in the future. Suddenly called to his wits, Ian stood firm and nearly dragged her up the stairs, deciding then and there that he would have to result to drastic measures to keep her from being foolish.

Ian’s eyes drifted from his mobile to the dark blue frame sitting on his desk. He gazed lovingly upon the black and white photo, remembering the first time he’d seen it, as well as the day it had been taken. It was of them on their wedding day, him dipping Rose mid-dance. The emotions he’d experienced the day he’d first come across it were nothing compared to the ones he’d felt on that day— _their_ day. He was filled with such joy, such contentment, such…love. Ever since the day when he’d allowed his heart to finally be hers, Ian had come to understand how he’d gone from the broken, shell of a man he had been to the man he’d seen in all those photos so long ago. 

Ian had never told Rose about his “journeys” to the future. He’d warred with himself about whether or not it was the right thing to do, to keep that from her; but eventually, he’d decided that it wasn’t necessary for her to know. He’d been given a gift, a glimpse of the life he was supposed to have with Rose if only he’d be willing to let go of his past and grab hold to his future. And that was what he’d ultimately done. Now, he was living a life day to day with Rose, an adventure he’d believed he could never have, and that was all that mattered.

A knock at his door brought him out of his musings. He looked up to see his, now former, assistant.

“Sir, I just wanted to properly introduce you to my replacement. This is Suki Cantrell,” Cathica introduced. 

Ian rose from his chair as Suki moved forward, her hand extended. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Smith,” she said with a handshake. 

“Likewise. Cathica speaks very highly of you, and she’s not one to readily give her good opinion,” Ian responded, casting a teasing smile Cathica’s way. She merely rolled her eyes and smiled. It was a clear testament to how far their relationship had progressed over the years.

“Well, then rest assured she has nothing but praises to sing about you, sir,” Suki informed him. 

“Well, she can’t think too much of me, or she wouldn’t be running off.” Though he was teasing, there was a slight, genuine pout to his words.

“I’m hardly running off, Mr. Smith. Tom was transferred to Dublin. It’s usually customary for a woman to go with her husband when he moves away. I think he’d rather appreciate my tagging along, don’t you?”

“Dublin,” Ian scoffed, “Hardly anything to write home about. Rather run of the mill, if you ask me.”

“Don’t believe I did, sir,” Cathica responded cheekily. 

“Oi! Rude! I’m still your boss, y’know.”

“Sack me,” she grinned. 

“See how she treats me?” Ian entreated Suki. “I hope you won’t be as sassy.”

“Oh, no, sir!” Suki assured him hurriedly, worry lining her words. “I would never b-…”

“He’s not serious, Suki. Well, not _completely_ ,” Cathica said, patting the young woman’s arm. 

Suki saw a grin emerge from Ian, and visibly relaxed. She wasn’t used to seeing such familiar interaction between employers and employees.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Mr. Smith.”

“Yes,” Ian nodded, “Nice to meet you, again. Look forward to working with you, Miss Cantrell.”

Cathica escorted Suki out of the office just as Ian’s mobile went off. Fully expecting Rose to be the caller, he was surprised to see his aunt calling.

“Hello?”

_“You need to come to Royal Hope immediately! Rose is having the baby!”_

Ian felt his mind stumble to a halt. He opened and closed his mouth several times before finding his voice. “What?”

_“Rose is in labor, Ian.”_

His mind finally resumed working, and Ian ended the call without another word. He rushed out of his office and ran down the hall towards his brother’s office, sliding past the door before hurrying in. Jack regarded him with raised brows, waiting for a breathless Ian to explain himself.

“Rose…baby…now…,” he panted, pointing to his mobile. 

A wide, brilliant grin took over Jack’s features and he quickly gathered his coat and keys.

“C’mon,” he said, clapping Ian’s back. “Let’s go meet my niece.”

****

“Do you need more ice, sweetheart?” Jackie asked as she swayed back and forth, a sleeping Tony in her arms.

“Not since ya asked two minutes ago, Mum,” Rose said, wincing as a small pain radiated through her.

Donna snorted from her chair as she perused through her magazine, briefly grinning over at Rose.

Jackie pursed her lips as she cocked a disapproving eyebrow at both of them. She suppressed the urge to comment on Rose’s snippiness, remembering that she was shortly about to push out a life out her body. Not the most physically pleasurable of experiences. 

Just then, Emily entered the room. When Rose found out that the young woman worked in labor and delivery, she insisted that Emily be her nurse. She’d come to feel secure under her watchful and caring eye, and Rose wasn’t prepared to let someone else take her place.

Walking over to Rose, Emily examined her and then adjusted the infusion rate on the IV fluids; smiling at her once she was finished. 

“Everything’s progressing nicely, Rose. I know it may seem like a silly question, but how are you feeling?”

A slight smile formed on Rose’s lips. “Like a watermelon is tryin’ to shove its way out of my nethers,” she weakly laughed. There was a brief pause before she asked, “Where’s Martha?”

Emily’s smile faltered slightly. “Um…Dr. Jones is in a medical conference all day. We’ve paged her, but she hasn’t contacted us yet.”

Rose threw her head back and groaned. 

“Right now you’re assigned to Dr. Poisson. She should be in shortly.”

“Thanks,” Rose answered, offering a weak smile. 

Emily nodded in acknowledgment, her eyes sympathetic, and promptly left. 

“Well, that’s just wizard,” Donna grumbled, picking up her mobile and sending another angry text to Martha. 

“She’ll be here,” Rose insisted. “She-…”

“Hello, Mrs. Smith,” an attractive blonde interrupted with her sudden appearance. “I’m Dr. Poisson. I’ll be covering for Dr. Jones.”

“Hello. ‘M Rose. That’s my mum, and this is Donna. ”

The doctor smiled and looked around the room, her eyes settling on Jackie. “You must be excited to have another grandchild on the way.”

A fire flashed in Jackie’s eyes. “Excuse me? _Another_ grandchild?”

Donna fiercely bit her lip, desperately trying to contain her mirth. Rose’s eyes widened and she clapped her hand over her mouth. There was a great possibility that she was about to witness the murder of the young doctor. 

“Yes,” Dr. Poison confirmed, motioning towards the sleeping boy. “He’s your grandson, correct?”

Angrily Jackie stepped towards her. “I’m his bleedin’ mother, you-…”

“Mum, don’t!” Rose warned, gritting her teeth as another pain presented itself.

“He’s _yours_?” Dr. Poisson questioned with no small amount of disbelief. “Well, isn’t that…something,” she said, a smirk emerging as she quirked an eyebrow. Before Jackie could say anything else, the doctor turned back to Rose. “You’re progressing rather quickly. I’d imagine you’ll be fully dilated within a few hours. I’ll be back to check on you in a short while.”

With that, she turned on her heels and left the room.

“I’m gonna skin that blonde bint,” Jackie growled, her eyes blazing. “How dare she?! Callin’ me Tony’s _grandmother_! How old does she bloody think I am?”

As Jackie ranted, still mindful not to wake Tony, Rose turned wearily towards her best friend, clutching her hand tightly. 

“Bring. Me. My. Husband.”

****

Clara sighed as she finished the ninth page of her dissertation. She was so tired of research, of the late nights, of the endless papers. She kept telling herself that it would all be worth the hard work; but when you’re in the middle, it’s often hard to see the end. 

The sound of rapid footfall pulled her focus from her screen, and she looked up at a very frantic, yet familiar looking man. 

“Uh, I’m looking for...”

“I know you,” Clara interjected, halting his hurried speech.

Ian pulled his head back before moving forward, squinting in observation. Recollection suddenly dawned on him. 

“You don’t work here.”

“Yes, I do.”

He shook his head. “No, you don’t. You’re a ticket agent.”

“Obviously not,” Clara countered, smirking at him. “I’ve moved up in the world. I run the information desk now.”

“Congratulations.”

Clara rolled her eyes. “It’s only temporary. I’m in school. Why are _you_ here?”

“Oh…right,” Ian said, suddenly remembering his purpose. “Remember when you said I should ‘get a move on?’”

She nodded.

Ian grinned brilliantly. “I listened.”

Clara narrowed her eyes in confusion, but then, as the pieces fell into place, she returned his grin and chuckled. Clicking out of the current window onscreen, Clara moved in front of her keyboard, looking up expectantly.

“So…”

Ian blinked at her, unsure of her meaning.

“She needs the name, Ian,” Jack said, finally arriving from parking the car.

“Right, right, right…,” Ian said rapidly. “Rose. Rose Smith. She’s having a baby.”

Jack rolled his eyes while Clara typed away, chuckling, “Ya don’t say… Alright…got it. Take the lift to 4 and she’s in Room 8. Now, run, you clever boy!”

Grinning like a madman once more, Ian sprinted to the lift, Jack hot on his heels. They had no sooner stepped out of the lift before they ran directly into Donna. When she realized who they were, her eyes immediately flashed.

“Where have you been?” she demanded, thumping Ian hard on the arm and causing him to yelp in pain. 

“I came as soon as Sarah Jane called. Where’s Rose?” Ian asked hastily. 

“Fourth room on the right,” Donna directed, pointing the way.

Before anyone could fully blink, Ian was sprinting down the hall towards Rose’s room. Now that they were alone, Jack and Donna exchanged a few coy glances. They’d come to know each other very well over the years, and their attraction to each other grew, yet remained unspoken. Ever since Rose’s warning four years ago, Jack had gone to great lengths to make sure he was worthy of her. However, Donna was difficult to read. She was always affected by his broad smiles and always an active participant in their playful, flirty banter. But there was still something holding her back. 

He must have been staring too long because Donna shifted her stance. “What?”

Jack smirked and opened his mouth to speak, but instantly froze when he eyed the woman standing a slight distance behind Donna. His eyes widened exponentially and he gulped.

“You alright? Ya look scared out your wits.”

“I-…”

The woman began to turn, and Jack whirled his head around, looking for quick hiding place. Seeing the door of a utility closet ajar, he grabbed Donna’s hand and pulled them both into the small space, shutting the door swiftly behind them. 

“What do y’think you’re doin’, you git?” she squawked irritably. 

“Shh!” Jack instructed, putting a finger to her lips. Donna rolled her eyes and swatted his hand away. 

“Answer me, Harkness.”

“I’m trying to avoid someone, alright?”

“Lemme guess, old girlfriend?” she asked, crossing her arms.

“No!” Jack insisted straightaway. “God, no! I represented her father in a lawsuit, and she asked me out afterwards. That was four years ago. She’s yet to take the hint. It’s a little ‘Fatal Attraction,’ if you ask me.”

Donna chortled in amusement at Jack’s methods of avoidance. “So, who’s this nutter?”

Jack walked over to the door, cracking it open just enough for Donna to peer out. “See the blonde standing at the nurse’s station? That’s her. Her name’s Reinette Pois-…”

“Poisson,” Donna finished. 

Closing the door, Jack regarded her in surprise. “How do you know that?”

“’Cause, Loverboy,” she smirked, “She’s Rose’s doctor.”

Groaning, Jack scrubbed his face and then leaned against the wall, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“So…exactly how long does it take to give birth?”

****

A rather intense contraction had just finished when Ian entered the room. Seeing her husband’s glorious face instantly brought tears to Rose’s eyes as her head lolled back onto the pillow. Ian ran over to her, grabbing her hand and stroking her dampening hair. 

“Hello,” he grinned down at her.

“’Bout bloody time,” she muttered breathlessly before grabbing hold of his loosened tie and crashing his lips to hers. Ian cupped her face, enthusiastically reciprocating her kiss. Suddenly, Rose pulled away with a hiss, gripping his hand tightly while she breathed in a controlled pattern. Ian watched with no small amount of worry at the scene playing out. After what felt like ages, Rose’s breathing returned to normal, and she once again rested her head on the pillow.

“Y’alright, love?”

“Oh, just peachy,” Rose said, grabbing a few ice chips and popping them into her parched mouth. 

Ian stroked her hair. “Sorry. Stupid question.”

“No…’s fine. I’m alright. They’re just gettin’ more intense. The doctor said it shouldn’t be long now.”

Rose’s reference confused Ian, and he frowned. “Doctor? Where’s Martha?”

“Some stupid conference, they said. No one can get ahold of her. I…I don’t think she’ll make it here in time to deliver the baby.”

A small sob escaped Rose, and Ian felt a twist in his heart. Leaning forward, he kissed her glistening brow. “Everything will be alright, love. I promise.”

She nodded, smiling softly at her husband and lifting their joined hands to press her lips to his knuckles. 

“I’m so glad you’re finally here. I-I…I can’t do this without you, Cillian,” Rose choked out, her tears straining her voice. 

“There’s nothing that could ever prevent me from being here with you. From seeing our daughter.”

Lifting up as best she could, Rose placed a soft kiss to his lips, cherishing the feel of him. A soft rap on the door turned their focus from each other and to the new presence—Emily.

She smiled bashfully, her cheeks pinking at her intrusion on their private moment. “Uh, I’m sorry. I just thought you’d like to see someone.”

Ian went to protest having visitors, but his words faded as Martha stepped into the room, fully in doctor mode. 

“You made it,” Rose cried in relief. 

“I’m so sorry, Rose,” Martha answered, quickly making her way to her friend. “I had my phone off for the conference.”

Rose’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “H-How did you find out, then?”

“Emily, there,” Martha motioned with her chin, “Seems she got it into her head to come get me when I didn’t answer.”

Both Rose and Ian’s eyes widened at the young nurse, their surprise quite evident. 

“You did that?” Rose asked disbelievingly. 

Smiling softly, Emily shrugged her shoulders. “It was nothing, really. You looked so heartsick when I told you we couldn’t reach Dr. Jones, and you shouldn’t be sad on a day like today.”

A few tears rolled down her already damp cheeks, and Rose quickly wiped them away. “Thank you, Emily. I…I can’t thank you enough.”

The young brunette smiled warmly at her patient. “It was my pleasure.”

“Alright,” Martha interjected, clapping her hands together. “Let’s see where we are.” Moving towards the bed, Martha made a quick examination, smiling up at Rose once she finished. “She’s definitely in a hurry to get here. You’re almost there, Rose. My best guess is that at this rate you’ll be ready to push in three hours.”

****

An hour and a half later, Rose was cursing Martha and her “best guess.” A shrill cry burst from Rose’s lungs as their child tried to make her way into the world. Ian felt utterly helpless seeing his wife’s plight, his heart literally hurting as he watched her struggle and cry out in pain. But despite that, he remained steadfast at her side, whispering words of love and encouragement into her ear as he stroked her hair. Rose held onto his hand for dear life, drawing strength from his presence, both physical and emotional. 

“You’re doing brilliantly, Rose. You’re so close,” Ian cheered her on. 

Rose released a haggard breath as a she finished yet another push. She looked up at her love, her eyes weary with exhaustion. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take, Cillian,” she whispered.

“You can do it, love,” Ian assured her, pressing his lips hard against her perspiring brow. “You’re the strongest woman I know, and you _can_ do this.”

Closing her eyes, Rose nodded in agreement. 

“Alright, Rose, I need you to push again,” Martha instructed as she watched the baby’s progress. 

Rose took another harsh breath and obeyed, pushing yet again, eager for this painful experience to end and finally have their daughter in her arms.

“C’mon, Rose. You gotta push, okay? Push!” Martha said again, this time more firmly.

“I _am_ pushing, you heartless cow!’ Rose snapped, pain and exhaustion finally pushing her to the edge.

Martha merely grinned at her, pushing aside the harsh outburst and focusing on helping the little one make her arrival. “C’mon, Rose. Just take one more deep breath and push.”

Taking a final deep breath, Rose pushed with all her might, crying out as her little girl finally left her aching and physically depleted body. Completely spent, Rose felt back onto the bed, trying to catch her breath. 

A strong, infantile cry rang out through room, instantly reviving the weakened Rose and taking away every trace of air from Ian’s lungs. Martha took the small, reddish-purple wiggling bundle and handed her over to Emily and another nurse who began the rapid process of measuring and cleaning the babe. Ian and Rose both watched in awe as they swaddled the infant in a soft pink blanket. Martha walked over to the still wailing bundle, picking her up and walking the short distance to the eagerly waiting parents. 

“I think this little one belongs to you,” she said smilingly, her eyes misted as she laid the little girl on her mother’s chest, her arms immediately wrapping protectively around her daughter. 

“Oh, my little love,” Rose said, tears streaming freely down her flushed cheeks as she gazed upon the perfection she cradled. “Oh, my God, Cillian…she’s so beautiful.”

The babe’s cries had subsided to the occasional whimper as she rested within the safety her mother’s embrace, her little hand curling around her mother’s finger.

Ian looked on in tearful awe at the two women in his life, consumed with an overwhelming sense of completion and love. He’d never imagined having such a life, but now that it was his, he couldn’t imagine having anything else. Ian reached down and cupped the infant’s small head, stroking the soft skin with his thumb. 

“Why don’t you meet your daughter properly,” Rose said, slightly raising her arms towards her husband.

All Ian could do was mutely nod as he took the squirming bundle into his eager arms, staring intently at her cherub-like face as he held her to his chest.

“We never decided on a middle name for her,” Ian said huskily, his voice ravaged with emotion. In the back of his mind, he knew he possessed the memory of the name. However, Ian was so overcome with the intensity of the moment, he couldn’t bring himself to recall it. And honestly, at that moment, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he chosen this life, that he finally had his beloved wife and daughter. Everything else was just an added bonus.

“I rather like ‘Emily,’” Rose said softly, “What do y’think?”

A slow smile spread across Ian’s features as he continued to lovingly gaze upon the newborn, stroking the apple of her cheek with his fingertip. He lowered his head, and closing his eyes, placed a gentle kiss to her forehead. 

“Hello, Olivia Emily. I’ve waited so long for you…oh, such a long time,” he said lowly. 

Ian placed another lingering kiss to her head, and when he pulled back, his breath hitched. In her eyes, Ian could swear that he caught a glimpse of that same adoration and love he’d witnessed so many years ago. Tears now streamed unabashedly down his face as he smiled brilliantly from his little girl to his Rose. 

He would never know what entity, what unseen force had decided to bestow such a precious gift as that glimpse into the future. And truth be told, he didn’t need to know. All he needed to know was that he had finally awoken from his guilt ridden and lonely slumber, and embraced what had been waiting for him all along. 

Looking once more from his wife to his child, Ian knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he had most certainly made the right choice. 


End file.
